Just Say NO to Mayo

It all started when I sold my motorcycle

For a one-way ticket to the British Isles

I was following a girl

Who went to university in Leeds

She wanted to become a barrister

To fight for women’s needs

I stayed in the south where I could make some cash

I was heading up north for my birthday bash

There was a deep pain in my stomach

I was curled up feeling sad

That mayo on my sandwich must have been bad

My stomach hurt for three days

I went to the doctor

Amazed I didn’t have to pay

Boarding British rail

I was on my way

To see my friend

I could not wait

Arriving at our destination

Six hours late

I didn’t really mind

Until a bottle of wine

Got busted in my nap sack

Going through the turn style

I heard a whack

All my stuff was wet

Still I didn’t fret

I was too excited to see my friend

Plus my stomach was on the mend

I was feeling great

We put my stuff in the wash

And went out and on our date

I hadn’t eaten in days

So a big meal I ate

Walking on the way home

My stomach groaned

I picked up the pace

She said this isn’t a race

You don’t understand I have to go

Please don’t walk so slow

Squeezing my cheeks

Moving my feet

I made it to the door

Half way up the stairs

This isn’t fair

Everything came rushing out

The look on her face

Was like she just got maced

She was pretty clever

Hosing me off in that cold weather

Later that night I tried to get frisky

She said the world doesn’t contain enough whisky

The Flip

We were just back from Europe

Our apartment was small

We were getting depressed

In the land of strip malls

My fellow traveler and funky girlfriend

Both us feeling the walls closing in

Get in the Honda

And head toward the mountains

Looking to rejuvenate

In nature’s wonderful fountain

We found our spot and settled in

This is where the adventure begins

Cooking raw chicken

On busted tree limbs

We heard a strange noise

Coming from down the mountain

It was so far away

Is why we weren’t afraid

Wrapped up in blankets

That cold autumn night

Feeling the warmth of the fire

Everything seemed just right

When a loud and horrible roar

Came from just past our fire light

We ran to the car and locked the doors tight

We looked at each other

This isn’t right

All our things including the keys

Are still at the camp site

Our car was parked beside a drop off

In a precarious position

We needed our keys

To end this rejuvenation mission

A nudge from a bear would send us on a long rolling trip

We sat in the car and I suggested we flip

See my girlfriend was on a feminist kick

She never wanted me to hold open a door

Or carry the bags home from the store

A flip seemed modern and fair

She lost the flip

So she would be facing the bear

I kissed her good-bye

All she did was stare

Stare at the man

That gave her the ultimate dare

I kissed her again and flew out the door

Scooping up our stuff as I roared

Back to the car in a flash

Down the mountain we went

Back to the reality of paying rent

Nature’s fountain had rejuvenated our core

We were feeling much better than before

Our little apartment

Didn’t seem so bad…

Anymore

Ruff

Mark and I sat in a vacant lot laughing uncontrollably. An old church towered behind us.

It was late at night and we were trying to rein ourselves in from some mind-bending substance.

Everything was so funny, we couldn’t stop laughing.

We lived across the street.

We didn’t want to wake anyone up.

A puppy darted around the field, playfully dancing around us.

Mark called to the puppy.

The puppy happily bounced over to us.

Mark petted the puppy.

The puppy ran off to the street and immediately got run over by a speeding truck.

The truck came to a screeching halt.

Lights started popping on in the houses up and down the street.

I looked at Mark. He was looking at the hand that petted the pooch.

Neighbors started pouring out of their houses screaming at the driver.

Mark and I moved back into the shadows of the church.

He kept looking at his hand.

Eventually we were able to cross the street and go home.

We both worked in the morning so I didn’t see him till the next evening.

I met him at the pub.

I could tell he was still freaked out.

He looked at his hand like he had inherited the black hand of death.

We sat in silence even though the pub was buzzing with activity.

I wanted to tell him stuff just happens man.

I looked Mark in the eye.

The only thing I could say was…

Ruff.

Digital Rush

It all begins with a click.

Instantly diving into the creative abyss.

With images and writing so blindingly bright.

As I fall through the literary expanse day and night.

I try to keep up.

I write write write.

Thanking all those stars for sharing their light.

Like fireworks bursting with insight.

I’m writing this poem to put off what’s next.

Dreading my daily death by push up.

The end.

The VW Rabbit

Larry it’s Ken.

You probably don’t remember me. We worked in Malibu together. Many years ago.

It was back when you had that convertible rabbit.

You used to let me drive it around on my days off.

I’m sorry Larry.

In your car I did everything from fish tails to emergency brake U turns on those canyon roads.

It was my fault that all those road construction guys came after you.

I was tearing down the road in your car when I came across a few miles of orange cones in the road.

I scattered most of them.

Nobody saw me the first time.

A few days later when I came barreling down that road in your car they were all up again.

So I scattered them again.

This time there were construction guys on the road screaming at me.

It was very surreal.

So the next time I brought my cousin.

I knocked down that long line of cones again in your car and we screamed at the construction guys as they threw stuff at us.

It was a long road and we messed with those guys all summer.

I literally scattered miles of cones in your car.

That’s why they came after you. They thought you were me.

Sorry you got your butt kicked man.

I’m truly sorry.

Ken

Politically Incorrect

So I see a guy around the office.

His job is to keep stuff clean and deal with the trash.

He has that special look on his face.

He doesn’t talk much. He often makes soft guttural noises as he works.

I see him in the cafeteria. He’s always eating alone.

I remember a grocery bagger in Sedona that I thought had too many bong loads for breakfast one morning.

I was working craft service for a movie of the week. I had two shopping carts full of snacks.

This kid wasn’t bagging my stuff. Just reading labels on all my snacks.

I asked him nicely several times to bag my stuff.

He just kept reading the labels and bagging some stuff and some stuff he would put back down.

Frustrated I finally walked up behind the guy and said, “what are you retarded?”

He turned around and yeah, he was special needs.

He said “hi.”

I apologized.

I vow to do better — offer this guy some humanity.

I walk in the cafeteria one day. He’s sitting alone.

I said “hello” and asked if he minded if I sat there.

He shook his head no.

I’m feeling pretty good. Is this what redemption feels like? I wonder.

I take a seat.

He starts talking.

He’s not special needs.

Within five minutes this guys is loudly describing every intimate detail of his relationship with his girlfriend… in a physical sense.

Everyone within a fifty foot radius could hear this guy pretty clearly.

From their awkward stares I can tell they think I’m in agreement.

I said “No! I sat here because I thought he was retarded.”

I left the cafeteria.