in the Harbor
The Ugliest man You’ve Ever Kissed)
A votre santé, ©
Before you I was a
quivering sunken mess.
That is to say, a
real nervous wreck.
Thanks for shutting
that shit down.
Love always, FJT
it ever so jumbled, there’s no place like…
Youth has been spilled
over wobbly barroom tables
rivulets dripped into socks
Youth has been scratched
out on cheap motel pads
fuzzy soft core on motel TVs
And now an old man
bounces back down South.
Quibodeaux Confronts Destiny
Ambrose Quibodeaux was
sipping Old Crow and chicory from a mason jar and alternately toying
with an old police service revolver when he first met Ambassador
Alacazar, the elite head of the Board of Science and Ontology from
the Planet Mungo.
Quibodeaux had been fingering an old song on an even older accordion
and debating on either playing “You Are My Sunshine” or
the “Mardi Gras Mambo” as carnival season had descended
upon St. Martins parish once again.
However, he had come to
the notion that the old groanbox had seen its last fais-do-do
probably years past, and wouldn’t play anyhow.
instead began loading and unloading the revolver as he debated the
merits of either loading all six chambers of the weapon or just one
and spinning the barrel, before placing the rusty old thing to his
fevered temple and pulling the trigger.
However, refilling the
glass with a sigh, he came to the notion that damned thing probably
wouldn’t fire anyhow.
So he set it next to
That was when, upon
looking up, Ambrose discovered Ambassador Alacazar across the table
from him, peering quietly over the edge.
No, Ambrose was far from
surprised by his visitor’s campy, elongated, green head, silver
jumpsuit, and colorful spangles.
This was because the
mixture of bourbon and boredom had counteracted the shock that might
have naturally have arisen in Ambrose.
In its place, he quickly
decided the little creature was an early entrant for the Krewe des
Martiens de Saint-Martin Parade.
Ambassador reached for his universal translator, which was located on
a big, glittering box on his chest.
The Ambassador turned
the translator dial from Mungan (his own dialect), to Earth/Acadian.
As Ambrose raised his
jar in the air, laughing “Bonsoir mon ami!,” the
Ambassador opened a lipless gray slit in the center of its face to
House of Platonic Bliss
Now serving the Your
Hello! Welcome to
Frank’s House of Platonic Bliss, we been loved, but not in that
way since 1992. Please listen carefully the menu options have changed
or to speak directly with an operator please stay on the line…To
be told you haven’t gained weight please press one, to
schedule a trip to or from the airport or to request pet sitting
please press two. To discuss your outfit for tomorrows big
date, press three…
Please be patient all of
our operators are listlessly surfing for porn.
Hello, this is Frank.
Thank you for waiting. That’s okay we were merely sitting
around and waiting for your call……You can now upgrade
to our Gold Member Level Service, We will hold Gold
Members, while he’s out drinking with friends or getting
his band back together, don’t worry. We expect nothing in
return. We’ll make you laugh and listen about your day! It’s
completely unfair what that bitch Sylvia from accounting said about
your new blouse!
All you need to
do is promise that if things were different there would be a chance
for US. We know sex can’t top how you feel for our
friendship. At Frank’s we know you can love us both but only
copulate with him. You’re not easy after all!
Don’t worry we’ll
gladly take the carrot or the stick. We know our smile is not so
toothy, our muscles not so defined, but were so damned happy to be
your Number 2. If nothing is permanent in this world, why have a
fling with a dud like us? We don’t even have a load of cash to
throw around! You’d be a fool not to have a stud on your arm in
To subscribe, please
send 8 x 10 portrait, so we’ll know whose image to cling to on
the cold, lonely nights hiding under our bed while you’re out
conversationally unfulfilled only. All operators are certified as
100% Quality Listeners and guaranteed as sentimentally castrated.