they agreed

they did not like hyphensdid not like hyphenated words

                                                                  anyet

he may have protested too loudly

found he owned miserable God-infected-and-fraught species

    next time they met hed confess

                                        but not retract

the species was   

  he wasnt

he slipped those nimble cloying fingershad seen the rancid matter under their nails

he only suffered the dismal expressions on his parents his relatives faces when they rose to take Communion  and he did not

                               he thought Wha the fuck  I came didnt I

 

oops  found he did it again tongue-in-cheek

                                                   oops anagain    He-Who-Fucks-Fat-Women

his buddy John

Minnesota John

fellow carpenter

 

John rolled his own

bartenders would come up to them You can’t do that in here.

John held up his DRUM tobacco paperpouch

bartender nodded

                          curious thing

they became fixtures in a few taverns in Johns neck of the woods 

as fixtures  John started rolling joints

they smoked them in dank corner booths that smelled of cigarette butts and spilled beer

fresh air in through open windows 

the bartenders let them be

 

John liked his moniker for him

                                   didnt take offence when he unveiled it

Not shabby.

                I haven’t said, but I am part Chippewa.

Which part

Not really sure. his parents were killed in an automobile accident when he was two Though I’m known to say I’m a chipoff . . the old block. Har.

Cute

Thanks.

 

    so he only had to fessup to three hyphens

he could hardly wait to see how shed react to Johns Indian name   

1019,  Monday,  2  2. 26