Just Like You

Whoa! Says Somebody 

What’s with this HYDROPODS shit and that DOOLEY fuck?

What’s with Captain Morgan over there?

[Contingent with wardrobe]

“Dooley looks like a ripe old lesbian!”

“I hope you didn’t PAY for that makeover!”

…Because I don’t talk, dress, act, think, care

or masturbate like everyone else

I’m somehow different, unusual

But I am temporal, like you

Flick of an errant pork-kabob to my throat, I bleed out

Stick an apple up my ass and stuff my mouth full of coals

Stop eating? Dead of starvation

Shit, or die convulsing

Knucklehead’s head caught in Tuesday vice?

Boom goes the Chucklebait, early Wednesday morning

I am transitory, living in fear of disease, disaster, dismemberment, dumbshittedness

It’s hard to remember every day what to do

Eat? Shit?

Avoid danger?

Earthquake tsunami?

Volcano flood?

Diseased fluids?

Lie in filth? Or scrub my balls with bleach and Brillo pads, wringing my cock like a sponge?

Venture into world (where, incidentally, a lot of people have died before)?

Or stand with my back pressed to entry, inside

Hoping bullet-stares of outsiders won’t penetrate the door

I’m just like you!

However…

Even Tim Ayres said on the radio

I was strange

But I’m just like him

And I’m just like you…

I’m just like you

I may do things a little differently

Gary too

We bend rules sometimes

Poke secretly bikers’ beer cans with darts when they ain’t a lookin’ at pool hall

Throwing clumsy arrows with boast, swaggering swigging Oly tall boys

With dribble occurring chinly, staining shirtly, down to the groinly

Looking urine-y

Clandestine dart holes in their upside-down horseshoes

The dribble-some cascade camouflaged by flowing waterfall image

Embossed on can

“Somethin’s WRONG with those Oly’s!”

We keep straight faces

Throw on our turns

Wait for the next round, our joy in their beards

Disgusted waitress kneeling in puddles

We slam our brakes on freeways then stomp gas

Pressing Tailgating Trucker Fuck’s ham into his split-screen

We can’t count how many hams we’ve pressed over years

On so many highways

Individually, in tandem

Hydropods have pressed a lot of ham

We stand for things popular to stand up for

As long as they instill our sinful wishes upon righteously ignorant

Or randomly irritating others

We stand against fucking with the little guy

Unless he’s that Napoleonic douche we thought was a clown-waiter at the titty bar 

We believe in life, liberty, and pursuing happenstance

Life, foremost

Kill the enemy?

SHAME the enemy

It lasts longer

We sling and fling feces

Breach anti-social contracts, piss beaches

We’re just like you

Laundry, common ground

What we do if we want clean clothes, right?

Laundry

We put one leg into our Wash Day chaps at a time

like everybody else

Shake up a Parfait d’Amore martini in Laundromat

Propose a filthy toast to whoever’s sitting there

We are just like you

I collect grudges and stomp around a lot

Just like you

I have five pairs of brown pants

I have five black shirts

in various stages of wrinkledness

I own five pairs of cloned donkey embryos

in chartreuse formaldehyde-filled beakers

and a sixth in blender with ice, gin, lychee nut nectar, and lime wedge

Skin and all

Throw in a few sunflower seeds, brings it all back to Earth

Garnish with cocktail mouse, top with a frilly umbrella

My cocktail grunion are (not only) running

They’re cascading skyward in fireworks pulses like an inmate’s jism

Gary’s collection includes a priceless archive of old movies, cinematic memorabilia, and Michael Jackson’s prosthetic pecker pickled in pewter

He tutors old ladies at the local historical museum

In Ebonics and “Safe-Bondage for Elders”

Coincidentally, a wig stylist and hip surgeon on the side, Gary knows what he likes, and he likes him some old ladies (Brown Chicken Brown Cow)

And if there are any old ladies here tonight please lock your walkers outside and crawl back for the after-hours party

Someone will drag you to Gary’s limo later

But that’s almost an exaggeration

Hey! Sure beats a fetish for Just Eightweeners

We’re not some freaks who think exclusively stink

Because we’re just like you

We may look devilish and probably groped someone on the way in

And were, potentially groped ourselves

But can’t be sure because it was so fleeting

So in that respect alone

We’re just like you

We would prefer Obama internment camps

Over Bush internment camps

Just like you

If only for the dental

We cry for the living and laugh with the dead

We think the unthinkable, piss on sacred pillows

Just like you

…“I’m NOTHING like you!”

We get that a lot!

But Hydropods are no different than Gary and I

So we are!

We are just like you

On a good day

xxx