A Rerun

NOTE: I went out tonight to celebrate Mexico's victory over France and lament South Korea's loss to Argentina. While I was out, I also lamented the Lakers' victory over the Celtics--I don't care about the Celtics but I hate the Lakers. Kobe Bryant is a terrible human being whose only redeeming value seems to be his ability to deliver like fifty three-point shots every game. Fuck you, Lakers.

This poem was part of the April challenge and I want to dedicate it to Christy and Rodrigo.

The Story of the Boy Who Tried to Run With the Giants (April 3, 2010)

This is the story of the boy who tried to run with the giants.

Always saw them strutting around, planting beanstalks

that reached up past the clouds, past where he couldn’t see

For the giants, the beanstalks were like the front stoop

where they spent afternoons getting bombed before dinner,

sipping their 40s and shooting the shit.

They poured a little out one day and that filled the Hoover Dam.

The boy tried to impress the giants by doing a wheelie on his bike

but his balance wasn’t right and he just skinned his knee

they laughed at him, told him to come back when he was grown

He spent the next week practicing every afternoon for hours

Before dinner, he would go and run his mouth to the giants,

too drunk to really hear him,

and tell them to get ready to see the coolest thing they’d ever see

they drunkenly nodded along

By Sunday, he was sure he had his acrobatic bike routine down

but Sunday was the day the giants played flag football in the Sahara

so the boy joined in in earnest

For their part, the giants played easy with him--

they liked having him around, didn’t want to grind his bones beneath their treads

and they even let him score the point that won the match.

He was so excited, he forgot to show them the tricks he learned on his bike.