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(Recap: The witchy girlfriend of an aspiring boxer has used magic thread to reinforce the “Last” part of his Everlast gloves. After winning bouts by going the distance, the boxer told his girlfriend that he wanted to win without magical help. She bought him new gloves and he started winning by not going the distance, winning by knockout or TKO instead. His growing fame led to a surge of e-mails and snail-mail from his female fans (among others) and his girlfriend got jealous. In spite she sewed a tiny N to the left of the EVERLAST on his gloves, and now the boxer finds himself totally useless, both in the ring and the bedroom.)

[N]Everlast, part 2

Bereft of manhood

Both in his hapless fists and in his boxing trunks

F.R. the boxer wept

And worried

With an important fight coming up in mere days

.

He went to his jealous lover Cecilia

Accused her of sabotaging him

And she pulled the shoebox of letters out from under the bed

And asked him who was sabotaging who

.

You know what? F. said chuckling

I totally love those letters

And I’m sorry you saw them

Because I knew you would go ballistic

She started to answer but held up a hand

I like that women want me

But it’s just lust for the big sweaty boxer

Just craziness

Now undo whatever you have done ASAP

You don’t want a man who can’t be a man, right?

.

She saw his honest earnest face and apologized

She showed him the little Ns and got out her forked unstitching tool

And unN’d the gloves

He pulled his trunks by the waistband to check his junk

Smiled and said Little F is waking up

She beckoned to the bedroom but he shook his head

Sorry Doll

I got to save my juice for the big fight

And if I win I will want some payback

He looked at her lovingly but repeovingly

I mean–you invaded my privacy and then got me clobbered

She blushed and nodded

He asked her Do you trust me?

She said Yes I do

If you trust me, and love me, will you do whatever I ask you to do after the fight?

She nodded and said Yes I will.

(To be concluded)

a friendly looming chatterbox held court with his dark friend

in the valley of the sunshine where the shadows bring relief

and the dark beplumed nonlady wished the yakyakyak would end

but she sat in silent dignity

endured the long debrief

at long last the non-yak yakker asked her what she made of it

and she cocked her head in thought and looked her friend up in the eye

and she shrugged; allowed a birdbrain like her didn’t give a whit

she just wished for unlocked wings and open windows for to fly

and her friend reared up and clacked his beak but grinned and said exactly

and you know that’s what i’ve thought for years and added good for you

and his friend beak-smiled at all the nonsense

said matter-of-factly

and kept to herself the evidence her pal’s a birdbrain too

the tomato slicer clocks out heads home takes a nap/awakens mid-afternoon and it still being too hot to walk outside/takes a look at movie listings on amazon prime

he sees a jack reacher title/and clicks on it to find to his dismay that it is not the new guy/but a miscast tom cruise instead/but it has some good improbable action/but is plagued by commercials/so he exits playing about 45 minutes in

clicks on the “continue playing” button for the good the bad and the ugly/which he’d watched a chunk of in its greasepainted glory a week ago/with clint eastwood and lee van cleef and eli wallach as the arch archetypes

the tomato slicer noted with astonishment that this spaghetti western miraculously left a taste of spaghetti in his mouth

making him hungry so he took a convenience store burrito from the fridge and reviewed the microwave instructions and followed them

and as the burrito was cooling saw in the amazon prime listings thunderbolt and lightfoot/with clint eastwood and a really young jeff bridges and george kennedy

the delighted tomato slicer fired it up/he’d missed this film in the 70s but always wanted to see it

and it tasted like sawdust but in a good way/and smelt of the linseed oil the tomato slicer used/when he was briefly an oil painter in the mid 70s

oddly though no trace of turpentine was in the scent

there is no accounting for taste, i suppose the tomato slicer mused as he fired up bad boys clint and jeff again

and as he ate and watched/he couldn’t help misting up/thinking about what time had done for and to eastwood and bridges

plus poor george kennedy had died ten days after his 91st birthday more than eight years ago

but the movie being nice and raw and weird soon banished such mawkish thoughts

yet the tomato slicer having finished the burrito/now daydreams of amidnight snack of a tomato-and-mayonnaise sandwich on extra-sour san francisco sourdough bread

and a big glass of cold cold milk

and another movie

Bishop Confers with Rook

Hey Rook, said the Bishop, the Queen’s Knight has his eye on me

I am threatened

How about defending me?

.

Can’t, said the Rook

You may well go down in a move or two

But it will be for the greater good

.

I don’t want to die! cried the Bishop

.

Cmon, Holy Father

You guys are born to be sacrificed

They might even make a saint out of you

.

You heartless pile of bricks! the Bishop sniped

You have never given me so much as the time of day

.

Not true, said the Rook

I pray for you every move

That you do the right thing

Now go to King’s Bishop Six

And we will win

.

Reluctantly the Bishop did as told

And the enemy Knight ran him through

And four moves later the Enemy was checkmated

According to the Maker’s plan

.

The Bishop sighed as he was put away

Another game another lancing of the heart

But every piece gets put away sooner or later

And, miraculously,

Each new game starts with Resurrection

And Re-Deployment

d for dimension and distance and dear

d for discography duh disappear

dangle a doodad for dimpled delight

dip into dollars for funtime or flight…ah, but

.

dastardly doer of doomscrolling deeds

drops new distractive denouncements in screeds

direness daunts what we need is relief

drive out this dreadfulness cease with this grief…so

.

dante’s inferno’s a third of the tale; let’s

dare to climb through purgatorio’s wail

dance with the deities rise with the leaven

deem ourselves worthy of striving for heaven…xoxo

an older frank sinatra sang lyrics from “the way you look tonight”/and they used it for a commercial/with stills of frank singing and smiling/and who knows what the commercial was advertising/but i trust it showed to frank/that he still had it/and was valued

a really old tony bennett/brought tears to lady gaga’s eyes/simply by recognizing her when she came out to sing with him/and they sang timelessly together/though tony was addled with dementia

glen campbell and alice cooper were golfing together/and glen told alice a joke early in the round/and then told him the same joke later in the round/and yet again before the round was over/but glen kept on performing on stage/and bathing in the applause/and he was still really good/and muscle memory kept his guitar playing astonishing

and i identify with and cheer for those old guys/and learn from them/that spending the last of your life making music/even when much of you is gone/is a glorious testament to “the show must go on”

.

i was an art major in college/and jokingly told my friends and family/that i was getting an early jump on my retirement

turns out not to be a joke

i will be seventy-one before the end of august

and i blissfully spend hours and hours making things on the potter’s wheel

i turn lumps into cylinders and cylinders into chess pieces and goblets and vases and birds

and I watch with increasing detachment as another part of my mind slowly erodes

for instance I did a search on “glenn campbell”/because i’d forgotten that “glen” has only one n in it

.

but back to “the way you look tonight”

it is a distant echo of the lines “And all that’s best of dark and bright/Meet in her aspect and her eyes” from “She Walks in Beauty” by george gordon, lord byron

“aspect” loosely translating as “the way she looks”

fun fact: “specchio” is old italian for “looking-glass”

.

i don’t give a care about leaving a good-looking corpse

but i care fervidly about leaving some good-looking and well-made clay art

so I raise the “power turquoise” cup i made, and i raise it to you, whoever and wherever you are,

and say, though i cannot see you,

“Here’s looking at you, Kid.”

The Queen woke up as

I was adding a bulbous earring.

“You have changed me completely,” she scolded.

“I do not recognize myself.”

“Gone is my patrician nose

And my delightful androgyny

And the angular cut of my cheekbone.

Why?”

I shrugged.

“You are more You now.

You have defined eyes

And the innate regality of a survivor

And the hint of a smile

That sees you through the worst.

You are more real.”

She made me widen her eyes

And put a teardrop near the right lacrimal duct.

But of course when I did that

I had to do a dozen other things.

“You are making me more homely,” she complained.

“No. I am sculpting you, and you are sculpting me

Just as much. You are uniquely lovely

And your daughters will be lovelier still.”

This silenced her

And soon I was finished.

“They sell us the President the same way/They sell us our clothes and our cars/They sell us everything from Youth to Religion/The same time they sell us our wars.” Jackson Browne, “Lives in the Balance,” mid-1980s

lampreys and rose stems and skeeters, o my.

vampires and vacuums and vegas, o my.

Lobbyists Senate and Congress, O MY.

suckers all,

and the paradox is THEY

are playing US for suckers.

.

and we need an antidote for suckery

and rhymes thereof.

.

doubt of,

discipline against, and

intolerance for scams…

these will help.

but a distaste for “red meat” is as essential.

we all have a hankering for that salacious,

gobsmacking, itch-scratching

metaphorical “red meat.”

so let us say to ourselves, “ah, the best of me

doesn’t want that. only my

Inner Lizard wants that.

because it’s fluffy and tasty.

but side effects include

Genocide, Armament, Despotism

and Destruction.”

.

let us banish the Lizard

to the Hell It is creating.

let It rule there

exclusive of all elsewheres.

a slug of sleep

at a phase of the moon

and you’re gabby in the morning

and a tabby on the prowl

come afternoon

.

but open a channel

and channel a verser

and set a sail a set of fleeting thoughts

like

“Some saw him as an artisan who bartered bathroom enclosures for herbs. Others trivialized his efforts as merely stalling for thyme.”

and

“The ultimate oxymoron is one word. Misshit. Schadenfreude. But two short words are good. Go on a slow fast and think about it!”

soon the expenditure of energy will make you drowse. You may choose more sleep, more verse, or a different worthwhile endeavor.

[Sender’s phone falls out of his hand]

a bitch

bemoan

(the things that you say when you’re there all alone)

see stuff

deride

(on the sarcasm sea ne’er-say-wells well abide)

egads

eff this

(it’s best to stop bitching and walk drive or kiss)

.

get out your new groceries

have a hereinafter

indicate your pleasure with a

jaunt of

kitschy

laughter

make a

naked spectacle

of

perishable

quests

rigorize

some

tangled

use of

varicolored nests

double you and toss on plate a fine and

extra me

why? hey, why NOT? let us scrap our

zealouslessness–BE!