Going Daffy In a Messy World
"GOING DAFFY IN A MESSY WORLD"
inside that four-cornered
room I slept with her and
the Mickey's that love potato
chips. inside that room where
we made love, we smoked our
smokes above the doghouse.
there were cigarettes in the
morning, in the afternoon, in
the evening, in the rain and
in the middle of the night
when the poor bastards of the
city walked like the old
hookers of London.
it's said the only sure thing
is death. for us, we haven't
died. we gave life to a box
with a window overlooking the
grapefruit tree. inside, I
made her moan, bite her lip
and climax. inside, she tore
my life apart with a single
question, threw blankets in
the dryer, and she gave me a
clean shirt to dry myself
after a shower when there
was no towel.
the short life I've had with
her isn't what defines the
value. it's the decision I
made to write about her from
the very start. our days
together were stubborn like a
dead car in the middle of
rush-hour.
I now look out another window
but the thought of her
remains like a felony until
death. she looks out the same
window above the doghouse
and wonders if I too, have
become an old hooker from
London.
the grapefruit tree followed
our moves, listened to our
words and got a pornography
movie every night. as the
tree continues to bear fruit,
the only confusion left, is
why I thought it was a lemon
tree.
By: Chicano Eddie
1-16-2017
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