by jerry soffer
Copyright 2012 jerry soffer
cover art: Tatiana Villa
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No! No! This is not music- flies buzzing, vomit, the slaughter of goats, they speak wretch and sing pig squeal, stink turned to sound, and our own people lie to us about what they don’t know and do, leading us blind up here into our own filth.
Sit and wait.
Sit and wait.
The Old Man nods to himself like he knows what’s out there. He don’t know shit, he thinks we’ll panic, panic after all this- well, yeah, it’s close, and it’ll be on him if we do, he’s the reason we’re here. Him. Who else could tell us this shit and not sound crazy? So he has that sly smile and I don’t know if anyone believes him any more but we’re scared so he might fool us or make us fool ourselves and he knows he’s working us both ways, maybe that’s why he’s smiling. I’m wondering if our own stink will seep through and betray us, but he won’t worry himself about that, he already turned away his face like he’s too good for it, so we sit and wait, sit and wait.