December 1998 / Volume One / Issue Three
David Gerstle
The Fine Line Between Freedom and Order,
          Where I Hang My Laundry

         This is point four of  pointless  melodrama
          nearly as nameless and headless as anyone
          disassembled on a railroad track     The
seething in stability        White knuckled children of
                         simple folk
                 who sometimes scrub the
                            baby's penis
                         a little too              zealously
           Then again    the only measurement   of pain
                                  is       more     pain

And now               lit up from firecrackers in the ass
     a mouthload of gossip and two new nostrils encrusted
            that same black ribbon around your wrists
                  it used to make sense
                                  sense like shaving your body bald
                     tucking your manhood between your thighs
                  sense like a fat head impaled
                                on a fence post

                                       You know in most countries
               they would have put a bullet in your brain
             by now  That's enough reason for another drink
             as any I guess  Too bad being an asshole is a
             wholly volunteer position  you could be a
                                                      rich man
             Yes             and I hear the hours suck too
Return to December 1998