Satan's Kitten

There is a devil inside me. His name is Lucinda. He's a post-op gender confused male. He speaks ever so quietly in my bowels. "It's ok to hate people," he says to me, "I do." I believe him.

Just before dusk near the local grocery store, a man drove a Transporter GL Power Scooter, made by Tom Kruse inventor of Hoveround, directly in front of my walking path and stopped. Harlem is Hoveround central--scooters everywhere. It irked me that there was a 90% probability that this guy paid little to no cost for this fine 3-wheeled device. Next, he put the scooter in reverse, intermittent beeping followed. My eyes caught one of his eyes. His other eye caught the man next to me, an unfair advantage.

"Meeoow," he said as the scooter's front wheel rolled over my big toe. "Lucinda says hello." He continued to cross the street in reverse, meowing all the while. Look both ways before you cross the street, I thought to say, but of course he didn't need to turn his head at all.

Under normal circumstances, I would have returned to my domicile complacent, but on this day, I was a lowlife dog, "Ruff," I barked back at him. Lucinda's evildoer had it all: advanced eyesight, personal motor-powered transportation with near flight capabilities, and gifted animal calls. I am jealous of this mystery man, and I hate him for it.

Next time I see him, I am going to unravel a ball of yarn right in front of his face ... but then, of course, he might not be able to see that, so I'll have to re-plot my revenge. Drats!

Creek vs Crick

I discovered that dreams are poems and poems are dreams. I’ve also discovered that other things can be dreams and poems or poems and dreams. It came to me in the bathroom today.

I was washing my hands after I used a urinal. Some of the water from the sink ricocheted from my hands onto my pants. It was only a drop or two, but I panicked. I didn’t want people to think I had a weak stream, so I scooped more water onto my pants. I’d rather look like I can’t control my stream than have people think I have a little babbling brook, or worse, a creek or crick.

I walked out of the bathroom. People were staring at me. Their eyes were fixed on my crotch … a dream come true.

Under the Bleachers

A man with brown shoes and navy pants sat next to another man with black shoes and grey slacks. Many white seats were available, but Browny sat next to Blacky anyway. Suddenly, Browny roared! Blacky was startled so he stood, zipped, and departed. Like a wild beast, Browny clearly claimed his territory. Blacky was outmatched.

Browny is either very confident or homosexual.

By Seymore Butts