Four hundred parsecs from Alpha Centauri, Earthbound again at Warp factor 9 - the only problem with light-speed travel is that every time we return to Earth, our previous families have died again - Number two is on his seventeenth marriage so far, and the funeral costs are shocking. The two dollars I deposited in my bank account on our last trip should have compounded nicely, though - coming home a billionaire certainly has its merits. Spent the night in Ten Forward, chugging synthehol with my senior officers - at least the hangover isn't synthetic. It's a bit like Budweiser, or making love in a canoe - "****ing close to water".
This is just a place-holder for an insertion later. I know that's kinda flitty an' all, but if you want to know the truth of it, this stuff just kills me. I'm not kidding......so here it is - I've decided to take this poem out of my full-length collection, so I'm puttin' it on the blog - very big deal...
Down in the Woods Again
- You can't write poems about trees when the woods are full of policemen
In the interview room, The Three Bears perch
on plastic chairs. Behind the one-way mirror,
Goldilocks fidgets with her cellphone - she's
expecting a call from a myth-based reality show,
and doesn't want to be caught napping. Daddy
Bear is becoming fractious - if only he hadn't
gotten so heavy into porridge, things could have
been different - but the Quaker salesman had
been so persuasive, given him the odd taste
once in a while, and before they knew it, those
bloody nuts and berries had lost their sparkle.
And then there was the unsecured loan on the
bedroom furniture - not to mention the mortgage
on the cottage. When you factored in the twelve
grand he'd anted up for the 65-inch plasma, it all
started to look like one of Grimm's. "You realize
your credit-score barely makes 600" the lieutenant
sneered - those bastards, they really knew how to
kick a bear when he was down. He could see three
faint, shiny circles the lieutenant's steam-iron had
imprinted on his shirt - he'd obviously never taken
the time to check out the November 1998 flat-iron
appraisal in ‘Consumer Reports.' He felt nothing
but contempt for this man - he imagined him
naked, and guessed he had a very small portfolio,
something his wife had no doubt resented for years.
"The blonde - what do you know about her?" --
the lieutenant's face was almost touching his muzzle.
"I could see she had no visible means of support"
he almost growled - "even Baby Bear noticed that."
It was going to be a long night. The lieutenant's
deodorant was kicking up a notch, as promised,
Mama Bear was quietly cataloging every mis-step,
and Baby Bear was busy sneaking sly glances
at the one-way mirror, his thoughts elsewhere.
Causes Alex Grant Supports
Southern Poverty Law Center