NaPM April 29 2015

[rayheinrich]

Birmingham and Batman

Your villains are caricatures, clowns—
a picture of contrasts
with the subtlety of a crowbar.
I was in that photo in Birmingham,
though I wore a different face;
the one you know was pinned
to the back of a prison cell,
a child’s craft for your consideration.
I wasn't the police; I was the dog
biting the boy,
like I’m doing right now.
Want to know what isn't funny?
Using children as a palette
to paint your pictures, red on red.
That’s the work of dreamers and heroes.
A cause requires cruelty. You get dazzled
by the light in the sky, and forget
that what’s coming to save you is a rat.
The villain poses the players; he isn't frozen
like me in this snapshot,
he wants you to remember.

    Your complexity thrills me.

---

                < How to quickly sharpen your lawnmower's blade. >
                       
                        Tired of taking the time and energy
                        to unbolt your mower's blade
                        and manually sharpen it?
                       
                        There's an easy,
                        and much faster way,
                        of performing this chore.
                       
                        The trick
                        is in keeping the mower running
                        while you sharpen the blade.
                       
                        Then all you have to do
                        is hold a file under the machine
                        at the correct angle
                        and let the mower's engine
                        do the work for you.  
                       
                        It's not that hard.
                       
                        If you follow the instructions below,
                        you'll be saving yourself
                        a lot of time and effort
                        in no time.
                       
                                    - - -
                       




                        < Sunday, August 9th, 1997 >
                       
                        It is seven in the morning.
                       
                        The bats were out again last night.
                       
                        I think they got billy.
                       
                        Either that, or he cut off his hand
                        and left it lying in the road.
                        (Not that that couldn't be a possibility.)
                       
                        There WAS some drinking going on,
                        one of those casually structured wines.
                       
                        I remember the last thing billy said to me:
                        "There are some really big fucking bats out here."
                       
                                                - - -