Digital spaainting based on a B&W photo of a young man

A Flight of Ideas: Tats

I grabbed Judy’s arm:

“If Jesus had been his girlfriend things would make sense!”

Judy gave me some Haldol and went back to her charting.

Jimmy, I thought, grabbing myself by the short-hairs; you should
forget this aggression: join the Army, put on a show; a thousand
lights search the sky, the shadow of a star taped on glass.

Who do you think Judy thinks she is?

White woman savaged by selves.

“Tell it to the Huns,” I say.

I strip to wrap my arms around Ronnie’s bare chest.

I listen to his beating heart; “You made people
think you cared so they blame themselves for being
poor.”

“Is that why you want to kill me?”

Nah,” I say. “I just wanna leave without paying, like you!

(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

7 thoughts on “A Flight of Ideas: Tats

  1. That was starkly powerful, Rob. It strikes a deep chord.
    Ha. Now between your story and my comment, I have Jeff Buckley’s version of Hallelujah in my head. I don’t know why it seems to fit…
    Wishing you a fabulous Friday.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. My alternates have specialties. One of them even specializes in writing absurdist erotica. I’ve wondered if I should make a second blog for adult material although I’ve recently discovered that with WordPress I can set different levels of access. I appreciate your comments. I don’t see all of me so I don’t know what I look like to others. At the moment the ‘Narrator’ is working on a piece called, ‘A Flight of Ideas’.

      Liked by 1 person

I love and reply to all comments, though I can’t always reply immediately

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s