Monday, July 9, 2012

3767. GARLIC PEPPER SALT


GARLIC PEPPER SALT
So I've got a leg up, running ahead of the crowd,
shooting the shit at the bagel store, watching the
guy work the power lines with a saw and a flashlight.
What's up with all this? I am no one but the most
intrigued lawless person in the whole entire world.
I took your sister to the movies, and left her there
at the credits. I wrote that note to your father which
proclaimed how useless he was. And then, leave it
to your imagination how it went with your Mom.
The girls were playing the Sugarcubes way too
loud. I hate that music, I really do. Men who sound
like girls, and girls who rant like men. Gracious,
what has this world now come to, tell me please.
-
There used to be a large white house atop that hill
over there. From where I lived, I could see it always
and from most any angle, whenever I looked out.
It was an old mansion, of some big brewery family
from Newark. They had two servants and even a
hermit who they let live on the property, at the edge.
He was a small man, in loose gray clothes, with a
big white beard grown yellow around the mouth; I
guess where stained by coffee and food. We called
it all the Krug Mansion  -  whether any of that was
true or not, I never knew. But, as kids, we did harass
that poor, lonesome hermit, who eventually began
shooting at us with a pellet gun. We used to say
he was shooting at us with salt  -  rock salt, I
 guess, or salt pellets.  Who knew? We just kept
bombarding his shack with pebbles and stones.
-
About twelve houses now cover that area, with
big yards. The shack and the mansion, the hermit
and his people, all are long gone. What once were
their woods, as well, is now a horrific mess of paving
and parking and shit-ass little stores. Oh bad, how
this life betrays us all, of really, really bad.

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