the outlaw poetry network

Sunday, March 9th, 2008...2:33 pm

mark weber | for todd moore’s birthday party

Todd Moore | Photo: Pete Jonsson

FOR TODD MOORE’S BIRTHDAY PARTY
[read in a gruff, gravelly voice]

put all your guns away Todd you’re
70 now and your reflexes ain’t what
they used to be you might hurt someone
I know your packin heavy this soiree here
looks chancy, you keep your back to the wall
I’ll watch the other side, lookit I know
six or seven of your guns are in pawn, just
give me them pawn tickets and I’ll get ‘em on over
to Snoozer Jackson down at the Mineshaft
to offset your bar tab, okay? and that one
you loaned to Kell just forget about it, you’ll
never get that one back, he got
drunk and tried to buttfuck Cabbage,
‘course Cabbage didnt take too well to that,
grabbed the gun but missed and now Kell
can’t quit blinking, so Pockmark McGhee
took the gun away from the both of them and
tossed it in the stewpot where Diamondtooth
Mary said it’d put some flavor on things,
and I know you got ten or twenty guns
under the bed, three or four of them the
G.I. men would like to talk to you about but
why you left that one on the front
seat is beyond me the stupid punks from
down on the corner broke the window even
though the door wasnt locked, the lock hasnt
worked in four or five years ever since
you broke the key off in there, and
Bill the Wheel said him and Capshaw never
did mean to quote unquote lose your granddad’s
old shotgun, which coincidently went missing
around the same time Stinky Caldwell disappear’d
‘course Stinky was messing around with Doris w/
the big jugs, and her husband, who’s locked up,
could have called in a favor from ol’ Goose
who’s impartial to no one, fact is, Goose
Johnson’d murder his own dogs if they got
in the way of his beer
no, Todd, it’s time to disarm
put the arsenal up on eBay
here’s a flyswatter, maybe you can catch
a few of them flies swarming
around your rocking chair