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Man….what’s showin my pipi to dat kid back ’98 got ta do with anything?….it’s not like I put it in da motherfucker’s mouth now is it? he paused, cellphone clutched to his ear,

Right, the crinkled wrinkled black man stammered inbetween sips from a clear pint, naw man….it’s some racist bullshit…..I’m sayin dat da motherfucker got it in for me ’cause I’m black, pulled the cell away, lit up a loosie stashed behind his ear….

See….I told my cousin….dat boy’s mother when she filed charges dat I was gonna git her black ass….now she be playin dis shit…..aint dat some fucked up shit…. uh…..right….right…..I’m gonna call Bender and Bender…..sue dat whole goddamn family, ran a shaky hand under his nose….

Dem lawyers be Jews dont they…..right….get dem Jews on they ass they gonna wish dat boy never said a motherfuckin word ’bout my dick…..five damn years and I’m still payin for nothin…..damn….I shoulda just stayed in my room and jacked myself off dat day…..motherfucker….

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(Based on Lenny from Harold Pinter’s, The Homecoming)

Through the steam….I see ya….bunch of Nancys eyeing me…..givin me the look of a fat man at a Christmas goose…

Stop with the lookin…..ya wanna show ya old puffter?…..aye……a show…..a real show ya can tell all the mates back at the pub bout….

No difference to me…..I like a yank on the old cock and bits as much as the next fella….

It gets down to being inconspicuous…..yes….inconspicuous…ya old fairies can’t say that now can ya… .can ya?

For God’s sake cover yourselves…..I for one don’t want any part of it…..no thanks…..not obliged in the least bit…..

I’m done here…..go bout your business ladies…I’ll give ya a reason ta smile…

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Money comes after long stretches of time…..days….weeks…months….you get the picture…..
Then…. in one twist of the knob…..a touch upon a dial pad…..a debit card swiped…  it’s gone…… as if it never was…and no…..you cannot have seconds…

And people walk by signs held by squatting hawkers whose last dimes were spent in bathroom stalls at The Port Authority Building behind closed doors…..moans……screams…..muffled by hand drying units blowing out at full speed.. 

Junkies looking…drunks too……lonely men seeking out company….all suspect….. savings wasted…. panhandled pennies promised to debtors now washed away; good intentions are all we were ever had….

The pushers…. the bartenders…the whores……pimps….parolees…attorneys…. all buying…..all selling…. praying upon the sick….the afflicted…the addicted….and the morally bankrupt…..

Get in line……the soup is getting cold…..

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Hip music played while pretty boys in black brought water and pushed the naan…..white table cloths and a fully stocked bar of bitters and Bombay gin in misty glass….this is civilized……

American couples of different colors texted during dinner while Purusha voiced what needed to be said: this is not Korma…..

There is no flavor…..no spice, the uninvited guest proclaimed, this is like a Pennsylvania Dutch buffet….where is the salt……where is the underlying hint of heat under the sweet, God smiled down upon him….

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where the good stuff is on Lexington Avenue…..look for yellow cabs lined-up at noon and one can figure out whose curry counts and whose has succumbed to the homogenization of America…..

The nice polite diners turned briefly to watch the needed lecture….then returned scrolling with pointer finger tapping away at absolutely nothing….

And this is what we’ve become…..a diverse country where everyone…..everything is the same, the madman proclaimed, God help us…..God help us, he shook his head, long black locks shifted….

No salt….no heat…….no garlic……no flatulence…..we are doomed….

Amen brother….Amen…..

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Too much…too….too…much….
There is no escape…..a forced noise in coffee shops, bars, grocery stores, diners, churches, hideaways, homeless shelters, Pilates classes, libraries…..Stop…please….stop…

No peace….no stillness…..just loudness twenty-four hours a day……everywhere…..New York…Chicago…..St. Louis…..Wichita…Patterson……Akron…..Harmony Grove….will it ever stop……

The celebration of nothing…. simply alone….. yourself and silence……uninterrupted silence….here’s to zero….

No speeches…..no off kilter notes….no unwanted occurrences…nothing brash ….nor boastful…….an easy whistle in tune…

Gathered souls rejoice…..we have lift-off.

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CNN showed the riches, the madness, the spectacular……Hotel burning while celebratory fireworks lit up the sky….

It was so perfect…….so American….. it could only happen in Dubai…..

Then a commercial for a feminine hygiene product came on…..why not…..

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The blurred black n white showed the results of a doctor’s knife and an industry’s requirements…duck bill lips….drawn–in face….a Brazilian Blow Out…..but….. those eyes…..still the same….blue….very blue…..or…were they green….

Words were used….”craft beers”……..”branding”…….”bringing music to the masses”……”look for me at the end of the bar”….467 followers……she would be made soon….

Il Duce had become what she once laughed at……thin as a rail….botox induced…..an American dream….a woman walking the streets talking to the air…..cancel that appointment…..call the caterers….what do you mean Billy’s not available ’til Tuesday….all day…..every day….

Then the call came…..at a payphone on the northwest corner of Lexington and 28th……the payoff for all dues tended…..

She’s gone….
What’d you mean she’s gone….
She’s gone…….we did all we could do….
There must be some mistake….
Sorry Jimmy…..

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The big man stood outside the joint waiting to serve the public, Loosies… loosies…..loosies, he barked at vagabonds with bags over shoulders, bills in hand…..

Today’s special, he bellowed like a barker, two loosies for a buck….two for a buck….niggas you can’t beat that…..

Slaves to menthols paid at the alter, greeted the merchant at Mainchance, and lit-up to start the day….

Loosies….loosies…loosies, he raised a wrinkled black finger to the breaking blue sky….

Now tomorrow loosies go up two for a buck fitty and one for seventy-five cents niggas…..cost of livin’ adjustments…..

No hems, no haws, there are those that are used to getting screwed……

Loosies….loosies …loosies…..get over here and get your loosies….

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Jimmy the Spic was dealing pills at a rented table in Mickey D’s; a small coffee buys you thirty minutes…..

The wiry Puerto Rican with the drawn inverted pyramid face slurped sugar from packets hid under his hood; always ask for extra…

You wanna sleep, he rattled off in a quick harsh tongue, I got something just for you amigo….

No…I’m fine Jimmy….just fine…

I got this Trazodone at Bellevue….bottles and bottles of the shit….I been storing up…..

Volume, volume, volume, Jimmy…passing the savings on…

To you man…I look out for all my customers….rich, poor, white, black….

What fucking rich people do you sell to…

Wall Street wives….marketing people…

They got insurance Jimmy…they don’t need you….I’m crazier than ten whores on crack….but, I’m not stupid…

I see….

Yeah….you see….time’s up Jimmy….

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It is winter in New York City…. the temperature has finally hit freezing; this is normal….

People trample upon each other through DO NOT WALK signs…..looking down at colored mini screens….accents of Russian, French, Middle Eastern, The Bronx, and the almost gone, but not forgotten Brooklyneese, bounce off tongues as cop whistles are blown, and horns are honked; this is normal…..

Guys with cut-off legs begging from a concrete floor, homeless vets asking for help, a sideshow here, a three ring circus of loud mouthy Puerto Rican girls struttin’ their stuff for young bloods; always on the hunt for cunt; this is normal….

Knicks hats tilted, gay boys at Parsons sporting Nets, Yankees, Rangers gear……walkin’ with an affected priss…. heads bopping……bodies weaving….. and Chinese break dancers collecting bills; this is normal…

New York in December and a chilly wind blows off the pond…people are miserable….trash smells up side streets…and white smoke blows from an orange ConEd street tube; a new pope will be announced at noon……..this is normal.

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