When they were on the
set for the Rock gotta
change that goddam title said
the old carny the makeupman
said Hal his teeth are just fucked,
snaggled like a tiger
& the boy blushed because
they were
so the boss said
just fix it & make sure they look rite.
They used a yard of
Polident to hold
the caps down but didnt count
on the fact that he was a
bluff tornado atomic powered
striptease.
During the big number he
shook it like a
barroom queen & one of those
mighty white hundred dollar
shreds of porcelain
jumped right down his throat
3% royalty be damned.
Shit shit I done swallered it said the boy,
but nobody believed the
joy buzzer king until they got up close &
heard the whistling backbeat to
his breath.
That night at Cedars-Sinai a
drunk & exhausted but
well-respected fortysomething
gently eased the chords aside I mean
slid the cords aside & plucked
the cap from the boy’s lung
just like Butterflies in the Stomach or
Spare Ribs or Charley Horse except
that didnt come until 1965,
thankyou Mr. Spinello.
Girls cried in the lobby & even
the old carny daubed at his brow,
visibly moved.
Good job doc they all said although
for the life of him the
surgeon didn’t know why.
That night he sped home
like always a pint of
Seagram’s in his belly another one
between his thighs easing the Alfa
past 90 past the horizon into
the driveway.
The blonde clinked cubes
into crystal & put needle to Sinatra slid
arms around his neck as he laughed &
said honey you won’t believe
this hillbilly parade today.
May 24-25, 2010.