Jollybob's profile

My White Lady Even seeing just the one time, I knew. Before I didn’t. People told me: friends, family, everyone. That rush that shotguns your insides when you think of never looking at her again. Guts snaking up into your throat like a backed up toilet; nothing but shit comin’ out your mouth when you talk, ya know? Poems made sense, songs weren’t just words and guitar anymore. Nothing. And I mean nothing, is like it. Looking at her now I still feel it, not near as strong as...

“What did you do?...” she asked me. “Pretty much exactly what you do Linea.” I say with a sardonic twinge to my voice, “I laid there and just took it. I was way too far gone to realize anything was wrong at the time; and it’s not like he had any scruples about the…,” Making my fingers into rabbit ears, air quotes, or alien antenna depending on where you grew up, “ ‘fucking’ situation.”   “The man was… a...

Lost and Found Lost. That’s the only word for it. Just having moved here I can’t tell back road from thoroughfare or my hand from my asshole. Left down Walter Street, right down James, another left, another right, and now I haven’t the foggiest how I ended up in front of this burned out church. Twisted, ebon planks reaching from collapsed base like gnarled fingers of a Alzheimer’s patient. In the best days it was a place for neighborhood worship, in mediocre days a collection of empty pews, a...

Brightly colored balloons and streamers pepper the fairground under the amber of twilight as the desert rolls with a guiding breeze into the tattered metropolis. An end of daylight celebration and beginning to a nocturnal remembrance of heavy drinking, flooded whorehouses, and dawn desperate for hair of the dog. Festival decorum white washed in vomit and dirt paved streets eclipsed beneath piles of transients who shield their eyes against the hellfire of a new day. Crying, crawling, clawing t...