We live in a time of hero bonuses. There is talk of appreciation pay. At the strip club
it is masks on, clothes off. We don’t want the naked ladies getting sick.
There is so much pressure to stay the same. Cassius Clay turned into Muhammad
Ali…They didn’t hate him for becoming Muslim, what did they know about Muslims?
No. They hated the idea he wanted to change and found a way. This was not allowed.
“But you said” means you should say the same…stay the same.
Change was for the weak and weary. It was called giving up. In my day, there was
no divorce. No one wanted to be called a quitter. Better to give up on life.
Flat girls couldn’t go to the hospital and come out stacked. Boys didn’t become girls.
They remained sissies. Girls who liked girls became porn stars for men.
I’m talking about killing aphids. Hybrid corn. Tomatoes the size of dinner plates.
Zucchini as big as watermelon. That’s what happens when you aren’t looking.
There’s a lesson here. Keep your eyes open. It wasn’t just Kennedy’s lies that were
killing; it was lying for the Kennedys that turned the party into a party of liars.
Once started, the liars never stopped. The first lie was that John Kennedy was a good man.
The next was that he loved his wife. The third was that he had been a hero.
Last, that money doesn’t stink. Men should never get into bed with the rich. That’s a rule. Women
can, because women know why they’re there. Men think they’re there to share.
When you are that rich, the men who offer to suck your dick are not always gay. If this
strains credulity, consider the case of Kennedy’s college roommate.
I believe all women who tell the truth. Jackie was a great soothsayer. She left the country when
the Secret Service told her assassins were out to kill Kennedys. “I’ve got two.”
She also called the women who worked in the White House the White House dogs. Your guess
is as good as mine. FDR sent the old man to the Court of St. James to rid the country of Nazis.
They threw the girls into the river. They registered the dead. Their bagmen met below bridges
in West Virginia and on street corners in Chicago. Robert worked for Joe McCarthy.
Some still call them moving pictures. Europeans call it cinema. As for me, it will always
be about film. Women are not the only whores.
David Lohrey is from Memphis. His plays have been produced in Switzerland, Croatia, and Lithuania. His poetry can be found in Otoliths (AUS), Tuck Magazine (UK), Terror House Magazine (Hungary), and The Cardiff Review (Wales). David’s fiction can be read online at Dodging the Rain, Storgy Magazine, and Literally Stories. His newest collection of poetry, Machiavelli’s Backyard, was published by Sudden Denouement Publishers (Houston, 2017). David is also the author of Bluff City, available from Terror House Press. He lives in Tokyo.
