The Gorko Gazette

Daily Humor

thegorkogazette

11.11.2024 6:58 AM

Purple Shrimp and 1 more by Maceo Nightingale

PURPLE SHRIMP

The fish flicked the cigarette out the window.
Clouds of tobacco creeped into a bedroom down the street.
A married couple sat in bed, watching TV.
Smoke lingered up their nose.
The husband wiped his nostrils.
And the wife turned her body towards the orange juice wall.
When she found the man of her dreams, he became her worst nightmare.
Rejection will make an ant out of an elephant.
A small heart but a very big ego.
Flowers on the moon listened to radio static.

In the purple room, we played video games until our brains fried.
A bowl of wet watermelon sat on the table.
Snake string guitars hung up on the wall.
And we sniffed lines of cocaine until sunrise.
The toilet filled with green money.
A bunch of rich people dressed in suits, carrying briefcases.
The harp player pulled the golden strings.
And a gray rat crawled out of the shower.
I’ve never watched porn, but I like eating grapes.

POEM FOR ARIK

The lonely weekends, smoking marijuana by myself.
Sex faded away from my mind like an old gray fart.
Desire gets in the way of the heart of a poem.
And a lack of interest in romance will make you kiss the pen.
Music sounds best when expectations are low.

Arik and I first met in the 7th grade.
A skinny boy with a blonde haircut.
And he played his golden saxophone like a man in a psych ward.
Shouting and screaming at the walls.
I plucked the bass with a green thumb.
We were both high on marijuana in the summer
And played music until 5am in the morning.
The crying neighbors called the police on us.
And we kept the rhythms and melodies soaring.
A cop eating a chocolate donut knocked on my door.
And grabbed Arik by his ear.
‘Where are you from?’
His hands behind his back, tucked in metal cuffs,
The last gray morning I saw Arik.
Haven’t heard from him in over 6 months.
He won’t answer my phone calls.
And he won’t respond to my text messages.
I sat in my bed, looking at the remaining photos of him.
He left his toothbrush and green soap in my bathroom.

He played his golden saxophone like a tortured animal.
And his snake smile flashed up his lips.
Full of green venomous teeth.
The moon cried, the door creaked open.
I have no idea where Arik is.
He might be in jail.
He might be in Europe. He might be dead for all I know.
But I miss him very much.