two tits and an ass

It was hot.
I wanted something to drink.
I wanted to rest for a while.
I wanted Dusty to wrap
   some baling wire around
   the muffler of my bike
   so it wouldn’t rub
   the tire.
I wanted to look at his sister’s
   melon heavy tits in her
   two year old bikini that
   didn’t fit right in the
   first place.
I wanted Dusty to fix my bike
   while I looked at his
   sister’s melon heavy tits
   and too small bikini.
I wanted to smoke some of
   Dusty’s red-hair buds
   while he fixed my bike
   & I played with his sister’s
   great big tits.

His mom said he was in the barn doing something
or another said she’d seen him go back that way
a few minutes earlier I could hear the Skynyrd from
the front of the trailer figured everything was a
go so I headed back to talk to Dusty at least for a minute
or two his sister with her big tits & small bikini was
laying in the back yard like I knew she would be I knew
when I saw her she was gonna fuck me ‘til I cried but
I went to talk to Dusty first opened the door to the barn

It was still hot.
I never got a cold beer
   or even an iced
   fuckin’ tea.
I did not get to rest not
   even for a minute.
I never got Dusty to fix that
   muffler damn thing still
   rubs the tire.
I didn’t get to look at tits or
   suck on tits & I
   got no blow job
   that day.
I even had to smoke on
   my own goddamn bud.
But I never forgot the look
   on Dusty’s face
   when I saw what
   he was doing to
   that poor donkey.

Some things are worse
   than getting caught
   jerking off.

- Yossarian Hunter

(added 07.26.09)

old pine

I looked straight up from my desk and saw
my grandfather and my sister outside the
door through the glass I could see that my
normally stoic grandfather was in tears I
stood up and left without a word I walked into
the office and I told them simply that I had
to leave I think they probably knew what
was really going on

I said nothing on the drive home except to
ask papa to pull into the pharmacy so I could
pick up a gift it was my mother’s birthday
and I wanted to do a little something to make
her smile and it did if only for a second or two
but the little shit like that can keep you going
every once in a while

walking in through the house my house or
rather my parent’s house it’s my sister’s house
now it was just then full of people I didn’t want
to hear see talk to know they even existed one
of them it turned out to be ma’s minister looked
at me and started to speak but I cut him off “fuck
your god” and continued in to the bedroom to see
my old man’s corpse

pop and I never got along and I didn’t care two
shits about him until that very moment I was just
sixteen and hadn’t lived long enough to know the
man and I realized it then as I left the room without
a word and walked about fifty yards through the
woods sat down against a fat old white pine rolled
myself a couple joints smoked them both and cried
for an hour or four

I wrote my first poem against that tree that day
and if that old pine were still alive today I think
it would come up right through the floor of my porch
right about where I sit and write and I wonder if
maybe that has something to do with why my eyes
sometimes well up when I do

- Yossarian Hunter

(featured in the poetry forum 07.26.09)

luau poem

something about it
doesn’t quite
fit

[like digging a perfectly
square pond filling it
with regular old water
then poisoning it until
it could not support
much less nurture life
before declaring it fit
to swim]

but
damn, girl,
lookin’ good in that
bikini

- Yossarian Hunter

(added 07.26.09)

buzzkill

the perpetual pulse
of the ever present cursor
has never really
panned out that well
I’ve always preferred to pen
my words
between parallel stripes
so I was in my usual spot
on the front porch
watching two finches
and a squirrel
smoking a joint
when the words came
but my pen didn’t want
to mingle with the page
seems it
too
was having a bit
of writer’s block
but since the words were there
and don’t tend to
stick around very damn long
I set the reefer down
and went in to the cave
where the only light
that made any difference
was that damned flashing cursor
the little fucker killed
my words
a sort of cerebral abortion
and now I cant find
the rest of my goddamn joint
either

©02.20.2009

- Yossarian Hunter

(featured in the poetry forum 03.02.09)

broken circle

wondering about my old buddy Tim
I stopped by his mom’s ramble shack
trailer today thinking I’d burn a joint
or two and maybe drink a couple beers
cuss a little and tell a few lies it’s been
three or four years since his mom’s wake
we hadn’t kicked it since then things
kinda got hairy for a while and
I had to just split the scene

Tim and I had a sort of two way
scheme going on there for a while
he brought me Demerol and morphine
and I gave him some of the most mind
blowing paper I’ve ever tripped both
of us claimed to be trading with the other
at cost but he never really knew what I paid

Tim and his buddy Bone worked with my
old friend Alan who lived two doors
down wiring houses and drinking
beer between smoke breaks I’ve
never met any particular granfalloon
that liked to get fucked up quite as much
as union electricians

Bone shacked up with Tim’s sister Dot
who was way overweight and not
all that pretty to begin with but she had
a daughter Erika who was cute the child of
an ill-fated hook up with a millionaire’s
son who was perfectly happy to pay for
the child quietly but patently refused when she
named the child after him seems his
reputation couldn’t suffer another bastard
Bone adopted her and took up the slack

Dot tried to give me a blow job one day she
didn’t really want me she just had a
heavy trip on my girlfriend and wanted her
real bad and she knew we were into that
kind of thing but we were all fucked
up been shooting heroin and drinking
Jager I couldn’t make it work and
didn’t want to I’ve always been attracted to
girls who look like refugees from Buchenwald

Bone was on parole for some weapons
charges and methamphetamine in another
state was nearly done with his time when
he got popped again this time he was
making the go fast I was helping him
but I wasn’t there when they came he
was a good dude kept his mouth shut
and they hit him a good lick twenty five
years the guy wasn’t in the best of health
to begin with he was a little older I don’t
think we’ll ever see him again

Dot had a bad time with methadone
once the doctor told her she had
some sort of allergic reaction and that
she shouldn’t take any more of it but
she never told me that and so I sold her
some and her new boyfriend and I were
drinking beer and playing video
games when little Erika who was four
came in and asked us why her mommy
was turning blue Erika lives with her Uncle
Tim now

Tim and I sat around this afternoon
and smoked and drank a couple beers and
I was rolling another when the big
yellow bus pulled up and out bounded Erika
no longer a little girl but turning rapidly
into a young woman who looks strikingly
like her mother only skinny I put my herb
and my papers in my pocket Tim looked
at me and said it’s cool but I was all of a
sudden feeling sick to my stomach so
I got up and left and don’t think
I’ll be back

©02.19.2009

- Yossarian Hunter

(added 03.02.09)

Inkblot

lurching
in revolt
xxxthe stomach
with great fanfare
bids adieu
to the remains of the previous evening’s debacle
a soiree of great and terrible import
---over scotch & ice
a needle & a spoon
xxxand an ashtray
filled with burnt dreams---
all now changed
into a snarling clown face
a Rorschach inkblot
xxxbas relief
xxxon the tile floor
of an entirely too well lit emergency facility
where doctors
with silk ties
and nurses
with too many children
and not enough husbands
refuse to comment on anything
save the inkblot
which they analyze
hoping to find a clue as to why
the Madman rants
insisting that they know
whether the damn thing is broken
xxxor merely bent beyond repair
which is the question of the moment
unanswerable
by any sophisticated
uncaring
electro-cardio-machine

© 09.15.2007 mjg

- Yossarian Hunter

(added 03.02.09)