Month: July 2012

Men:

My personal favorite was The Egyptian Magician action figure issued in 1958.
He has since then been discontinued.
He donned a black mustache,
equipped with a detachable welding mask and sauce pan.
He spoke several languages and
his veins pump the blood of Ancient Pharaohs;
and I heard once
he may have even killed a man.
The comic book never confirms it but
we all know it’s true.

“There was nothing Roaring about 1929, Honey”

There was always a pot brewing. Black, unleaded, Maxwell House as if it were going to disappear.
I always wanted a sip to see what all the hype was about but it was out of the question.
I would clear the table after our three course fill of shooting-the-shit.
No elbows on the table-no hats- no cursing-and keep your feet on the damn floor.
I convinced myself,all those colorless cups of Joe are what gave my Grandmother such a sharpness of her tongue.
No cream-no sugar-just flat.
“The Battle Ax.” my grandfather said, giving me his crooked grin for the stab at my Grandmother.
It always made me laugh but I had to ask,
“why does she drink it black?”
As soon as I did, I was transported back to the cusp of the Great Depression,
whisked away to a time where cream and sugar where a luxury and coffee alone was “just-fine.”
the Dust Bowl,
child labor and the lack of laws,
trying to find a steady hand to draw your nylon seam on straight,
my piss poor grandmother,
living through World War II with her family intact,
and being at “this here table today” she said.
“No matter what just work hard, it’s always good for the soul to wear-out your favorite pair of boots.”
I’m glad to be at this table too.

She and my Grandfather
are truth.

5280 ft X 5280 ft

I took my youth through a square mile town and wore it the fuck out.

It was an odd section of the Burbs with an escape route in every direction.

Taken by foot or bike,

a car if you had a friend who was on the same bullshit as you-

but the savior of that mind numbing town was dubbed The NJ Transit Train.

New York, Philly, South Jersey and anywhere in-between

 flat.

The bus was always the last option.

Stopping at every other corner always cramped up time

and I simply didn’t have time for that,

usually because I was running

and I’d be damned if my parents ever found out.

The Raritan Valley line and I where bound to be together

and the small few who were always running away from that shit hole with me too.

A train ticket, my music and a pen,

is all I ever needed to travel on the locomotive and never look back.

I still do not understand why more members of our cramped quarters didn’t live by the tracks.

Staying still breeds disease in close quarters

and that is exactly what Suburbia did.

Keep it movin’ right on out of the Railroad town.