Dirt McGirt
“Nice to meet ya my name is Dré,
but you can call me Possum Aloysius Jenkins André 3000 for short.”
We must have traveled more than 50,000 miles in the month of March. That’s including vertical and horizontal. Why the royal we? It’s probably more accurate, because there’s no homuncular I riding atop these cells.
All this traveling fools with my immune system. My qi is messed up; yin and yang out of balance. Moderation in all things. It’s warm enough for the grass to come back green in Carson City, but they have to divert their water. Floods in Minnesota, fog in Black River Falls, more snow coming. The wisteria’s in bloom at home. Nu can’t breathe. My Uncle can’t breathe. I started getting the scratchy throat after a day. Everything is coated in yellow gametes.
My lungs are floating, mouth: drunk. My mind is in Atlanta, Guangzhou, Madison, my heart is in my throat. My body?
“I have dreams of orca whales and owls,
but I wake up and fear,
you will never be my, you will never be my Fool.”
Your Grandma wants to talk to you.
I didn’t even know you were here. Why didn’t you come see me? You know I got over my food allergy, right? The Lord healed me and now I can eat shrimp and lobster and I’m just having a great time. So Donald and I will try to make it to your graduation. No you should be spending more time with your family because I won’t be around for much longer. Don’t they have things planned for grandparents, too? So when are you going to be back in town?
“You better think about it,
kid you better think about it.
You better hit the damn bar and get a drink about it.”
I’ve been thinking about it. No, it’s none of their business.
No, I don’t think we’re going to war with China.
No, I don’t think He-Man is the Devil.
Jesus was a player hater.
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