A Real Man

“But he can’t be a man,

‘cause he doesn’t smoke

the same cigarettes as me.”

You think we didn’t always

know what was going on?

You think we forgot…did you forget

we stopped going to Disneyland 

years ago?

Yes, my generation had a high casualty rate,

but it was only the weak ones.

Yes, I loved Jackie Gleason, (he built a house

in the shape of a flying saucer…it had three

floors, each with a full bar…the house only

had one bathroom…Nixon took Gleason on

a tour of a military installation when he was

President…he showed Jackie Gleason the 

bodies of aliens…It’s said Jackie drank more

after that, if possible, for a few months. I think

the stories are true.) Ed Sullivan, we watched

Bonanza together as a family…Fess Parker as

Davy Crockett…I broke a toy rife over my

brother’s back one day…I did want to kill him.

I was a real man…good? bad? sure. I tried.

I didn’t kill anybody…didn’t even hurt 

anybody real bad.

I haven’t been depressed since my teacher

slapped me in the face and said: “Cheer up!”

and everybody laughed.

I haven’t had (strong) thoughts since another

teacher said: “You don’t have to think!”

I’m almost completely gone, ha ha!

Gone, gone, pretty darn gone,

ain’t comin’ back soon darn gone,

yii ha! Ain’t it a bitch!

I’ll have those M&Ms now…