I roam the slums of a jungle;
It is hot and I am always thirsty.
I drink from the
It’s magic quenches
At 3 AM savage
jabber and howl.
“Who do you love most,” asks God.
“Jayne Mansfield,” says Max.
“And why is that?” God is so cleverly all-knowing.
“She’s dead.” Max replies.
(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2017 All Rights Reserved
I was under powerful witchcraft and hoped I was possessed.
I thought of little Reagan: the tricks he could do with a crucifix.
He was light in the head yet raised by circumstance.
Were I novelist I’d have written the story but instead I spinned
and spewed broccoli.
Judy asked if I was trying to vomit and I snarled, “No! I need a
Judy said what I really needed was a time out until I learned
to govern myself.
The staff carried me off before I could levitate.
I’m in seclusion and starting to think that Judy doesn’t love me.
Rob Goldstein (c) 2017 All Rights Reserved