from A Tijuana Tale (Part 2)
from A Tijuana Tale (Part 1)
Tosca
a friend of a friend’s doll antics
a girl whose name was Erika Strada
sat behind me in 7th grade Language Arts class
she was born the same year that CHiPs made its debut
I never saw her ride a motorcycle
or arrest anybody
but one time
she did trade me some sour apple Jolly Ranchers
for a bag of Fritos
There was this kid who listened to Death Metal all the time. His name was Harly Chesterton. Sometimes he’d put on a Freddy Krueger mask and went around with this blonde wig on too that was all curly and long like Bette Midler kind of. He talked to girls in a low voice, like almost a whisper. Sometimes they didn’t hear him. He had to repeat stuff a lot, like when the teacher called on him in class. A lot of time grownups told him to speak up. Not many kids would play with him. His front teeth were all bucked, and his breath smelled like Play-Doh. His jean jacket was too small on him. It had a big old rip in the sleeve and was all frayed at the bottom. Sometimes he’d pull his socks up all the way to his knees, and they were those white striped socks, the ones with the big blue and red stripes on them. In the summer he’d go around in OP shorts that almost went down to his knees, and his socks were pulled up all high almost to his knees, so there was only like these little knobs of his knees there showing. His legs were like twigs and his knees knocked together sometimes. There was a tornado on the day he was born. His mom had to have him in the basement. There wasn’t a doctor there, but his dad used a pocket knife to cut the umbilical cord. Harly didn’t have any trophies. Cats hissed at him. Once he put a stray cat in his microwave and cooked it in there for 4 minutes and 12 seconds. He said it smelled like bacon and burnt hair.
lycanthropy at its finest
fist fights
fist fights
they don’t solve anything
except when Buster Douglas KO’d Mike Tyson to win the Heavyweight Championship in 1990
that solved something
Lighter than most mornings around here
I saw God sitting on a fire hydrant.
I asked him, “Hey, how ya doing there God?”
He said, “Okay.”
I said, “Just okay?
I mean, you’re God.”
He said, “You know,
I have my bad days too,
just like you.
Made in my image, you know?
I’m just like you.”
I flipped him a quarter,
told him to have a good day;
and he said,
“I can’t guarantee that,
but
you too.”
white socks like a so boring of a time like this white socks like a
happier time being had by all
white socks are not for me no not at all
white socks are for the basement only
like white socks for dusting
white socks take the cake and white socks can have the cake
jump
wrestle
fish for fish while fishing
white socks yours not mine white socks not so white after all no
white socks at my party
go directly to go
white socks socking it to you
peculiarly white as white socks can be white
on the run with white socks especially white
lights out
whiter now only white
socks of white
like so much white before
not sockless no
white socks of good white socks of bad
in the end
even without spats
white socks are just white socks
no doubt
white socks
