DICK

There used to be this old man

in my neighborhood

who’d jack off by his window

and wear shirts that read:

“666” or: “The Pope’s a Pollack”

and I thought

he was a real philosopher

I’d talk to him for hours

watch him drink

cans of Burgie!

from a paper bag.

He hated the world

and it hated him.

Things work out

like that

sometimes.

 

It’s funny because I was

a paperboy

when I met him

and now I’m growin’ roots

and I won’t talk

to him anymore

because he’s not a philosopher

he’s just an old man

I thought

was somebody

until I woke up

one day

and saw

the whole world

was as ugly

as he.

 

Circa 1989-1990 Alhambra, CA

 

[The original was likely written on a BROTHER electric typewriter with a correction ribbon. If i have it, it’s stained with beer and nicotine. Dick was the neighbor that lived in the house behind the one where I grew up. He lived with  his hyper religious sister who was likely twice as crazy as him–because you know, religion. Anyways, the first time I was arrested/detained as a juvenile, Dick was the one buying us beer. The reason why the cops showed up is because at that particular THRIFTY’S there were large bay windows on one side (offering a view of most of the store) which bordered an alley which led to the back of the whole shopping center. Me and some fellow neighbor hoodlums were peering in said windows wondering just what the fuck was taking him so long to buy us our liquid oblivion. Someone called it in as a 459/211 [nomenclature: Penal Code burglary/armed robbery] in progress and the Alhambra Pig Dept. showed up just as Dick was coming out of the store to make the hand off. Pro plot twist: this was the same THRIFTY’S my older brother Michael actually burglarized several years prior. He did juvey time in Slymar for that–among other–notable capers. He was 15 when he got nicked for that; same age as me when I got shafted for the beer pimping fiasco.]