At the Old Place
(a homophobic translation of O'Hara)
Earl checks out my twin-cap diesel combo.
Yeah, I got a wrench for that. (Dude, you comin?)
Earl hops in. (You ladies comin?)
Mike and Bill hop in the back. We squeal
across the lot - till Cooter's Vet
block's the exit ramp. (Cooter, you comin?)
(Dude, where?) Bill's lips spell out "P A R T Y"
"Bill, you a mime or something?" then
Cooter's like: "I don't think so, later."
(Shut up, Bill.) Dude, Rongo's already there,
gonna be zero pizza left, or beer.
And Rongo's sisters? Nope. Just
Rongo's Mom, she parties, though:
(They're in the rec-room, boys.)
Up the dark stairs drifts the stinking cha-
cha-cha - old salsa, pizza - that kind of shit.
Through yuke, bongs, piss we charge
to the floor. Ashes everywhere.
Bill's sisters? Nope. Just Frank.
First I rastle Frank, he's a lot bigger
get's me in a headlock, quick, flip's
me around, but takes it easy.
It's pretty cool. But my stomach ain't
(I'm almost heaving.) Get up, shotgun
a barley. Till Bill wants a piece of me.
Pinching, scratching - that kind of shit
till I land an elbow side his temple,
and he has to cool out. (Hey Cooter,
knew you'd be here.)
Bill, Rongo and Frank look up. (Yeah,
I'm ashamed to hang out with you
chicken shits in this fucking basement,
what you been doing, coppin' a feel?)
[pages 68-69 of The Lobe (Roof Books, 2002)]