Buy the Ticket
January 8, 2013 in Resistance
My body ached,
my bills hung on the fridge door
by magnets, a Meaning of Life DVD
rented from Netflicks needed to be returned,
no motivation to work
on the novel. I couldn’t find meaning
in anything at all.
The devils in me were peering over the backyard fence into my ghetto, fenced-in yard.
The rain kept coming down
like the thousands of things I had to do,
filling it up like a mini swimming pool—
flooding the inside of my garage.
But I didn’t care, despite the damaged paintings
on the garage floor, despite the family photos
I was okay with not being part of the show.
I sat at my desk and surfed the web.
I watched Jerry Springer videos.
I watched KKK men
and angry lesbians
throwing chairs and swapping punches.
I watched helicopters shoot fireworks
and crash into the ground.
I watched transsexual women
talking into their cameras
making transition u-tube videos
showing the progress
of their masculine bodies
transform into soft female creatures;
one talked about the sing songiness
of women’s voices.
Another showed her progress
from facial surgery with wraps around her face—
tubes sticking out
while a fat female friend sat beside her.
The whole web was a Monty Python sketch
smitten with the reality of a snake bite.
Somehow I felt better.
That web helped me sit back and appreciate the play without the worry of any reading parts.
I watched the end of Western Civilization
burst into flames
and jump up and down
like a burning rabbit
as Santa Claus
walked out of a women’s
wearing a tight, black skirt
with a pink purse
in his manicured hands.
I wasn’t exactly thrilled with my life.
But you know, at least there were others out there
going just as crazy.
How else do you act when you see the meteor coming? Buy the ticket. That’s the best advice
I can give, and hold on for your life.