trick or treat

before he left he turned to me with
a smirk and says to me, “don’t do
what i wouldn’t do.” to myself i was
thinking i wouldn’t do what he
did do. he was a bug-eyed genius
that had to get kicked in the nuts
before getting his rocks off. he
wanted to be a poet, jesus spoke
to him on mondays and thursdays
about it. it was his calling now.
he slept in dark alleys and ate
from burger king dumpsters. he
wasn’t much to look at but had
a pretty boy on each arm as he
strutted down liberty street.
someone feeling sorry for him
thinking he was down on his luck
bought him a pennsylvania pumkin
patch lottery ticket for halloween.
the son of a bitch won fifty million
bucks. i never took it from him, not
even a dime. he bought me a carton
of cigarettes for christmas and gave
49,999,940.17 to the local cbt charity
club and they gave him a life time
membership. he died a week later
when someone bit his dick off. i plan
to visit him when i can afford to get
to the monongahela cemetery. it is a
good ten miles away going west on
hwy 6. it’s on the national register for
historical places in pennsylvania.
baptiste “bap”manzini and armand
niccoli, the professional football
players are buried there. i will sit by
his grave and have a cigarette. it’s the
least i could do because i’m never
going to do what he would do.

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