Fast Food Geology

"The thing I hate about an argument is that it always
interrupts a discussion." - GK Chesterton

It begins with one question, and then the response slants
downward underneath the train transepts.

A pigmy picks up some distorted letters, shuffles
and deals them upside down.

The lion had no shoes so he could not attend the parade.
He stood on Broadway and 86th his cold paws mangled.
Some big deal cops had taken him home for sex
and when he got there instead of banging them
he was bound, stretched like some human bastard
from floor to ceiling as rug for global export.

The lion argued that he was a living thing, entitled
to compensation for the rough trade he had as a cub.
The cops, two sweet Does from New Jersey weren’t
buying it. They stapled him to the wall after
a long struggle where one of them lost her head.

Parts of his story of body repairs and escape made
the headlines of the Lately Times Express. Censors
kept the public out of the loop with whips, chairs
and cages decorated as birthday cakes where dancers,
happy for the work, show their tails and raise a pulse.

At 96th and Fifth, simple minded Cherry the clown,
an overweight Gorilla wearing a two piece suit stood
erect with his package exposed at the reviewing stand.
He had much to say, but no one could understand
him. He complained that he was a stumble bum
elected Mayor on a fluke. It seemed the other candidates
resigned rather than confess to stealing votes.
The grand judge, Livy Diamond, former preacher,
Nun, call girl and human from the animal farms
of Brazil had wanted ten percent of the action as a rake.
She owed some BOZO, a new species descended from Sapiens,
millions of Drachmas for hanging one arm bandits

The argument never began. It stopped mid-sentence
and the illustrious Ms. Penny Winkle, dame, extraordinaire
sashayed as she marched between the last fire hydrant
and the first. It seems some dogs found her too interesting
when her tail popped up. Alas, she had had her plumbing
altered, and she was a he. The male dogs were confused
by the preponderance of her verbiage if not her stink.

Somehow, the perpetrators assembled
at Mike’s Poker club for a spirited game of
Texas Hold ‘Em. They said conversation begins
with the cards. First the deal, then a flop, and
finally bets on the turn, the river and at end.

Silence was broken, by the caterwauling of
humans and beasts when the pot was ripped
off by some out of work Elephant, sad because
the circus had forced him to retire too early.

Conversation has many enemies. Absurdity
is not one. Look inside your skin and find
all your scars and then be grateful you win
at least once. Remember silence is not golden.
Speak up. Ask mother fucking
questions and do it before the parade ends.
If you don’t, some sad ass Great Ape
will climb you like he did the Empire State.
He will drop you. He already owns Fay Wray.

Nothing is like it seems when you open
the barrel of a double gauged shotgun, point
it at the sun, fire, and melt with the ash
of long ago when the rivers of lead made
mountains on the run. Fast Food Geology
has spoken its best words today.





Written 3-18-06