THIS IS A POEM


My life is a train wreck of orphans on Super Bowl Sunday.
Neither Pepsi Cola nor John Travolta can save me now,
And capicola just makes me frown.

This gauntlet, this constant, fist fight for sex
Has rendered my cobalt cock
Withered and mirthless.

And these table scrap handjobs you feed me
Won't keep my soul awake
During this midnight of my desperation.

All my attempts at intercourse with produce
have been to no avail.

Alas, you cast me aside like the post-coital cum of a deflated condom left to coagulate in a puddle of futility beneath the harsh sun of reality.



This ejaculate is my death cry.

KIDS!

Last week Uncle Pops and I stopped to get some fuckin coffee at a gas station.
I sat in the truck while it idled, Uncle Pops inside greasin himself up with caffeine, and I look over at this four year old with a faux-hawk and coke bottle glasses. At first I think, "Wow. It's kinda like that Tom Cruise movie come true."

Right?

So Uncle Pops jumps back behind the wheel, pours that coffee into his mug and I look back at kiddy-pie. And what should I see? A middle finger pointed toward the great northern heavens, while its thumb and three brothers sat tucked nicely into his palm. This position held for a moment, until the fingers danced about, weaving a new pattern.

Now the pointer finger stared directly at Uncle Pops' truck.

"You see that?" I asked.

Uncle Pops-FLABERGASTED-did.

I wouldn't take this sitting down. I hopped up out that seat and pranced daintily toward kiddy-pie. When I'd reached glaring distance I bent forward and asked kiddy-pie if he knew what that symbol meant.

Smiling, he nodded.

This was my cue for action.

Gently, very gently, I squeezed his nose between my thumb and pointer until the flesh beneath my nails turned ice white. Then I playfully slapped his cute little face around, twisted his glasses, threw them, and laughed. It was about this time that his bull mother came lumbering up to the cash register with a case of Natty Ice, prompting a smooth get away.

My right hand punched the hood of Uncle Pops' truck as I hurried across to passenger side. The shifter slid into reverse, tires squealed, we hit drive, squealed some tires, peeled out, and left that sonofabitch choking in our eternal glory.

After that we did what most straight men do:

DRANK BEER AND ATE PUSSY.

I'M SO TOUGH I SHAVE WITH A BUTTER KNIFE.

CROTCHLIST 2008
An ever expanding list of crotches-

PLACES:
Cities, States, Countries

New Crotch City
Milcrotchee
Sascrotchewan
Zimcrotchwe
Crotchifornia
Mount Crotchmore
Crotchua Tree
North Crotcholina
Crotchitoba
San Francrotchco
Crotch Lake City
Little Big Crotch
Crotchoslovakia
The Crotch Republic

CELEBRITIES:
And other well-known folks

Arnold Crotchenegger
Crotch Pitt
L. Crotch Hubbard
Sam Crotchwell
Benito Crotcholini
Stanley Crotchbrick
Sean "Puffy" Crotch
Christina Applecrotch
Philip Seymour Crotchmann

MUSIC ACTS:

Guns N' Crotches
Megacrotch
Herb Alpert And The Tijuana Crotch
Wilson Crotchlips
Crotchfinger
Crotchkick Murphys
Pink Crotch
Black Crotch
Crotch Sabbath
The Omar Crotchriguez-Lopez Group
Color Me Crotch
Simon And Crotchfunkel
Iggy Crotch
DJ Jazzy Crotch And The Fresh Prince
Huey Lewis And The Crotch
The Mighty Mighty Crotchtones
The Crotch Pistols
The Flaming Crotches
Crotch Fighters
Counting Crotches
Crotch Stewart
The Crotch Hound Gang
George Thorocrotch
Howlin' Crotch
Tucrotch
Creedence Crotchwater Revival
Bel Biv DeCrotch

BOOKS:

The Crotch Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
The Big Crotch by Raymond Chandler
The Dharma Crotch by Jack Kerouac
Slaughterhouse Crotch by Kurt Vonnegut
2001: A Crotch Odyssey by Arthur C. Clarke
The Illustrated Crotch by Ray Bradbury
Crotch on Rye by Charles Bukowski
No Country For Old Crotch by Cormac McCarthy
Crotch of The Wild by Jack London

THE SOUND OF MY SOUL: