I HOPE THAT'S PEPPERONI
Tony the boxer told me
about an Italian joint in
the neighborhood
Back in the '30s, the
owner killed his wife &
chopped her into tiny
bite sized pieces
I made the mistake of
telling my wife & daughter,
now every time we drive by,
my daughter makes stabbing
Motions in the air & squeals
like a dying mouse, to
accompany her invisible knife
Deciding this annoying habit
needed a remedy, I hid a bag
of catsup in my mouth
When we drove by, I bit the
catsup squirting it all over the
windshield, my wife & daughter
& blinded myself
We crashed through their
plate glass window & ordered
a pizza, while waiting on the cops.
Gerald So reads "I Hope That's Pepperoni":
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Catfish confesses: This poem is about my 92-year old neighbor, it's true. Tony never drove a car in his life. The story about the pizza joint is true. I took poetic license with the catsup part. (in other words I lied my ass off).
CATFISH MCDARIS just finished a 30 year gig at the post office in Milwaukee.He's been published widely for 20 years. His most infamous chap is Prying with Jack Micheline & Bukowski. He has a joint hardcover with Ben John Smith at Lulu.com called Dancing Naked On Bukowski's Grave.
1 comment:
I liked this one a lot!
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