October 2008 / Volume 8 / Issue Three
Justin Hyde
an elephant hole

chuck
was the trailer-park manager:

dark-blue
one-piece
mechanic's suit

ash-white buzz-cut

liver-rorschach
up and down his arms.

yelled in my face
when i was seven

accused me of digging
an elephant hole
in the sand
below the jungle-gym.

made us
use a cat-ball
when we played baseball.

wouldn't let us
roam around
with sticks
and hammers:

basically
an epic
cock-block.

we gave good repechage though:

poured orange-juice
into the community lawn-mowers
he had to service

took dumps
on the floor of the party room
below the laundry-mat

cut tags
off gas meters

and

constantly wrote:
die fat whore

on the windshield of his wife's k-car
with lipstick.

his wife actually did
kick the bucket
when i was ten

chuck went down the drain

replaced him
with a guy named steve.

steve didn't give a shit
what we did

he was too busy
driving around the trailer-park
on a gold-wing
swiveling eye-dick
to little girls.
RETURN to OCTOBER 2008