Bastard
(Too Small To Fail)





I was born high in the hills...
And ‘High’ is the operative word here...
To some fiery folks
That took great pleasure
In the disdain
Of the life
That they had encumbered
Specially when they took
Monster swigs
Outtah the jelly jars
On the top shelf
In the kitchen.

Top shelf was miles
Diff’rent back then.

I was birthed
At an ungodly hour of night
That was neither polite
Nor convenient
To the country veterinarian
That had to travel several miles
On the dark, rutted dirt roads...
So his patience was short
As he worked me out of the womb.

The same man that births the local
Cows, horses, goats and pigs

And so
Fittingly
He birthed me
With the same crude compassion.

When I came out a-squealing
And kicking
He cut my umbilical cord
With a jelly jar dipped
Hunting knife
And quickly tied it off
With the rough twine
That mah Mammah usetah
Dress the stolen chickens with
Before throwing them in the oven.

Mah naval still looks fucked up
Like a tumorous nub
Allah these years later.

I used a similar kindah rope
To hold mah pants up
When I went tah school
And it itched my belly fiercely.

Nothing like a red splotchy stomach
Tah drive yer mind
From the studies in earnest.

That and the exposed skin
Of Sarah Anne’s thighs
As she sat quietly at her desk.

Beautiful white skin stretched over
Thigh muscles
Strong from running home
After school every day.

Oh Sarah Anne
I remember you
Like the rosebushes and peonies
That grew wild
And wreckless
In front of Ol’ Man Hanson’s house
Exploding in bloom in the late Spring.

In the Fall we would sneak up
And pick tart juicey apples
From his prized Braeburn and Winesap trees.

God help anyone who got caught.

I still have my flannel shirt
With the right sleeve
Torn away in fetters
From the rock salt
That he blasted on me.

My arm burned like the Devil’s Fire itself.
It was through tears
That I watched him jump up and down
On his front porch
Waving his shotgun in victory.

“That’ll teach yew, yew lil basterds!”
“Yew tell allah yer friends wot happens if’n they try ta get my apples!”

If yah look real close in the right light
Yah can see the scars
Where I spent the rest of that afternoon
Picking that shit out
Of my oozing arm.

I’m sorry...
Mah mind is wandering.

That seems tah be a flaw in my character
A simple mind such as mine
Can’t stay on track fer very long.

Mah brain moves faster
Than I can talk
Sometimes giving people
The wrong impression
That ah am slow
When in fact
I am fast...

I can’t even keep up with mahself.

So with allah the distractions and white noise
I didn’t finish school
Leaving instead
Without my parent’s consent
To join
‘Dr. Kirchok’s Traveling Emporium Of Gifted And Unusual Curiosities’
That would more often than not
Attach itself to several different carnies
Depending on scheduling and whereabouts.

I started out as chore boy
Setting up, breaking down
Feeding the few animals
In our entourage
Rubbing Talcum Powder inbetween the folds
Of Hilda-The Human Whale Of A Woman’s bloated flesh
To keep it from rubbing raw against itself
Causing her huge discomfort.

She could be a REAL bitch
If she was uncomfortable.
She was known for her mean backhand
That would come without warning.

I caught the weight of her flabby hand
Across mah face
And she sent Raldo The Seal Boy
Tumbling across the baked dry dirt
To the other side of the tent
With one giant sweep
Of her jiggiling arm
Sending him off for a visit to the carney doctor
And keeping him out of work for a week
Though I think he was milking it for the sympathy.

It might have caused him
Great depression.

In any case...

It did cause the Great Dr. Kirchok
To pay a visit to the fat lady
And he evidently came down
Pretty hard on her
Docking her pay
For the misfortune.

The worst punishment employed
On any sideshow performer.

A bit of self satisfactoial revenge
For the limbless
Helpless but popular Raldo.

It was during this tenure
That I got hooked up with the Meth heads
That ran the Dark Rides
In the carney.

I would finish my duties
And wander over to the carney side.

The Tunnel Of Love
The Haunted House
The Tea Cups
The pathetic Roller Coaster
The Himalaya
The Fun House Of Mirrors

I’d snort or shoot speed
With the Op’s
And shoot the shit
And help them close up
Or break down.

I raised enough money
To buy a kangaroo boxing rig
From a guy from Tennessee
For what I thought
Was a great deal.

I paid $1200.00
Including the trailer and the
Beat up International
Pick up truck



With balding tires
Complete with the privilege of illegal temporary use
Of registration and plates.

I brought the rig over to
Dr. Kirchok’s Traveling Emporium Of Gifted And Unusual Curiosities
Giving great performances
Of getting my ass kicked by two kangaroos
For several years.

It was either the smell of
Kangaroo piss and shit
The cracked ribs
Broken nose
Or general damage
Inflicted on my body
Or the continual use of speed
That got the better of me.

But I grifted the shabang
For a small profit
To a chore boy
In a similar position to mine
A few years before.

I wandered after that
Making money how I could.

Many of it not so proudly.

And I spent it
On whores
Tobacco
Cheap booze
And speed when I could.

Sometimes I would spend it
On food
Or a place to sleep
Though that was rare.

I had my priorities.

Things were a blur for awhile.

I ain’t to proud to tell some
Of the things that I’ve done
But I did them outtah survival.

Are you following me
Or am I talkin’ too much.

It’s a residue
From the Meth.
I talk a lot
Without making a point sometimes.

I am trying to make a point.

Bear with me.

I got married once.

Thought I had met
My be all end all.

I pictured us sitting on a porch
Someday
Old
And in love.

Just rockin’
Back n’ forth.

So old
We couldn’t have sex no more
But we were in love.

Well that went South.

I took up an apartment
Above a whorehouse
After that
And I just started to read.

I read prolifically.

Great books.

I cleaned the toilets
And soiled sheets for rent.
I soon scheduled the ‘gals’
I cooked dinners
For them
And acted as security
For times when things
Got outtah hand.

I washed their undies.

I was a chore boy again.

But I was able to steal
Books from the
Store down the street
And ‘Borrow’ books
From the library.

Mah life has been
A few mistakes
And a bunch of reaching.

I want the golden ticket.

I want to win the lottery.
Of which I play every payday.

I want to catch that brass ring
As I pass by
On the Merry Go Round.

But I’ve been thinking.

And this is my thought
That I wanted to get across
Originally.

I may not be particularly educated
Or well read
But then
I don’t thinks ya have tah be
A very smart man
Tah figure out that there’s a lot of things
Wrong in the world today
That need fixin’
And people are dragging their feet
Like thay were stuck on flypaper.

Me.

I was never stuck on flypaper.

I just needed to do the things
That needed to be done.

And I did them
Rarely making effort.

Too small to fail.