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A Profile Of My Criminal History

"you lookin' so fine today," I said
as she sashayed passed me on 42 street

That got me sent up river for my first stint in the big house,
stuck with a bunch of ugly thugs
who happened to appreciate beauty the same way I did.
All I choose to remember is passing around an old calendar
with Bettie Page pics as a surrogate fix.
For what is life without beauty?

Immediately after release
I called a butch looking dyke a woman.
"I'm a man" she said.
I was flabbergasted, but the scary witch of a judge
wasn't buying my protestations.
That got me another couple of months

So, now I was considered a repeat offender.

It was hard finding work after that,
so I started selling plastic straws on the QT,
usually just singles, but I was set up by a snitch to sell
a full carton. He was trying to plea bargain
a charge of attempted manslaughter
for smoking eighteen feet from the front of a building
instead of the statutory twenty.
They fried him anyway.
I got five to ten.

I stayed clean for quite awhile when I got out,
but it was hard with cameras everywhere,
political correctness having run amuck
A.I. scanning every activity,
and children even ratting out their parents.

I sometimes thought it would be easier just going back inside,
but then I started hearing of some underground groups
who were getting as fed up as I was.

I'm going to try and find one.
I don't think my criminal history will matter much to them.

Comments

There was all kinds of mean, nasty, ugly-lookin' people on the bench there
There was mother-rapers father-stabbers father-rapers!
Father-rapers sittin' right there on the bench next to me! And they was mean
And nasty and ugly and horrible and crime fightin' guys were sittin' there
On the bench, and the meanest, ugliest, nastiest one the meanest
Father-raper of them all was comin' over to me, and he was mean and
Ugly and nasty and horrible and all kinds of things, and he sat down next to
Me. He said, "Kid, what'd you get?"
(From Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant")

Ten-fifteen for objectification of an ankle.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

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