I busted a glass-shelf
in the basement yesterday, &
for some weird reason
I started thinking about
this fellow named Jacob
I used to deliver
pizzas with.
He was a piece of work,
& not in a good way.
He was 7 or 8 years older
than me, had beer-mug,
thick glasses, a woolly bear
mustache that seemed to migrate
throughout the week, & he had
little respect for anyone.
He was shacking-up w/
the dishwasher, Bob’s, ex-wife.
The slight-of-hand trick to the
story was Bob lived
w/ Jacob & Pass-Around Patty.
In fact—now this is what
Hillbilly Mike said & I don’t know
if he’s such a reliable source
since his alien abduction claim,
but this is what he says he saw—
Bob would sit vacant-eyed, like a
taxidermied fruit-bat, next to the bed
while Jacob & Twirl-Me Tina
would be trying each other’s
parts out—
like new mechanics.
It’s like I said,
I don’t know why I was
thinking about them.
Maybe it has to do w/ my
recent envy of
the mad.