THE FAT MAN IS LIKE BURNING SKIN
-Italicized lines taken from “Detroit Moi” by Al Young.
Across their faces blemished a sickened smile
This was life down heavily on the side of live
Entertainment. Biting into the fleshy meat,
Juices of fat roll down their overly large chins,
And from their pulsating lips emerge,
“Oh Lady Be Good. And the Lady of Our Profit was good.”
The emigre who danced or listened hard to dreams escaped
Could only wait to say
“The fix was in. To hell with all the wild pigs out there…”
Life never goes planned to any according way.
And there she was, the feast,
For the fat men burning skin.
Their cries mimicked one another,
Eyes all longing for the same.
Lights filled the center.
Smoke thickened the air,
Jazz plunked around.
Those were voracious nights.
They return in dreams, in daydreams, in the ways they walk,
Crowding around like pigs at the trough,
Waving their healthy dollar bills,
To sufficiently sate
Their succulent desires.
Bills, which silently slid
All down between the cracks, all up and down, the earth was bled,
Until not a nickel was left.
But that did not in the slightest matter,
For each man had their manner.
One after another they’d come for them, the same.
(c) Bret Sears – 2010