John Patrick Henry Ford

A patch of hair like a humpbacked soldier whose lieutenant shouts get flat dammit do you want to get shot? Whenever I mow the lawn I think of genocide. My friend who says hair is political. If that’s true, I say. She says–my friend says–that she votes with her vagina. I oughta shave my head I say. And me with my disenfranchised cock. Let’s take a road trip. Just down the street a few jaundiced blocks. Pack luggage for a three day journey, camp every twenty-five feet. Take photos and buy caffeinated Doritos at Stop n Go and Cum n Pump. Some boys are selling lemonade outside the building where I live. The asking price is fair, but when the revolution breaks out I know I’ll raise my gun on them. T. Jefferson who said a little lemonade makes sweet the blood of slaves. Another friend of mine says she likes to be spanked with a hairbrush. It leaves your ass like a golf ball. In Belize a man asked me if was true about Americans. That they start each Sunkist morning with a fresh pair of socks and throw them out before bed. It’s all true, I said, all of it is true. We’ve evolved beyond bread and replaced it with chicken.