MEATBALLS

If you argue with Seymour
he will either yell at you
or call you a pig fuck. Most likely both. I don’t argue.
Instead I smile.
My smile radiates the world.
My smile brings my hidden purple light to it’s full brightness.
My smiles removes negative ions of polyatomic molecules
from my nervous system.
& more importantly,
I don’t want to be called a pig fuck

I met master in February, 2008,
when I was going through some rather difficult times.
Master saw special purple light inside me.
And after careful consideration, he assigned me
my special duty.

My special duty is to push a meatball up a hill,
with my tongue,
without blinking
Monday through Friday,
nine to five.
If I can get the meatball up the hill
with my tongue,
without blinking,
I get to keep it
& do whatever it is that I want to with do it. It’s not like that. I just suck on the meatball
letting all of the flavor dissolve in my mouth.

This duty is called Eyes On The Prize.

In the evenings, It’s all Steve Time. My master finds
that Steve Time is best spent being forced to write poetry
in the style of him, my master.
He says that it’s like exactly the same thing as getting an MFA. Only much cheaper
And Master knows what he’s talking about. And for me it’s sublime magic.
Now for every scrumptious poem that I compose
I get one Meatball for Eyes On The Prize.

Here’s a poem that rewarded me one delicious meatball
That I will attempt to push up the hill tomorrow morning:

Have you ever missed a BART train
cause you were too busy buying
a tall can to drink
on your BART train?
I have. And let me tell ya
it makes you feel a little bit stupid.
And to text your lovebird your reason for being late,
can make you feel somewhat
irresponsible.
And have you ever thought that
it’s weird that me needing
to drink water
is more important than me needing to have a set of eyes?
I find that super weird.
I mean I don’t think about it a lot. Mostly when
my lovebird gazes into my eyes and says softly,
“Maybe you should have some water”.
Then I think about it.