Making the Bully Eat Shit by AndySerrano, literature
Literature
Making the Bully Eat Shit
Sample Chapter from my book, "Mijo."
How Andy Made the Bully Eat Shit
In early August, during summer vacation, twelve-year old Andy rode alongside the railroad tracks on his red Schwinn, bike with a wire basket in front, to the public library. Andy thought, Ive had enough of not knowing how to talk with people and not knowing how to make friends. Im tired of being a nerd. Ive already read all the biographies, all the science books, all the history books, but never read anything about making friends and making conversation.
Arriving at the library, he locked the bike and walked to the psychology sec
Tears welling from
An isolated heart
Freeze on contact
With Shrink's deadened eyes
Whose automated hands
Reach out to be paid
For an empathetic moment
To hear the patient's sorrow
And the ticking clock
Pacing spontaneity
Rationing weeping
Oh. The time is over
Take your tears
Drop them
In the gutter
Next patient, please.
The Third Street bus bench
Cradled an unshaven man
Held together only by his rags
Numb to the cold
Beaten but not yet dead
Each day I walked past him
Revolted
Then sad
One day, relenting, I thought of feeding him
But time won out instead
His health yielded the ghost
But who had really been dead?
My soul was the one wrapped in rags
Wealthy but too poor to give
Healthy but too sick to care
Bright but too stupid to see
Alive but too dead to feel
I had rigor mortis of the soul
An American provided a home
In which his father warmed his bones
It was the golden years of life
The man was frail old
Death tugged at his bones
His fire dimmed each year
Days were spent
Struggling to park bench
Greeting graying friends
In Hanover Park each day
No easy accomplishment
Watching the children play
Weeping over lost virility
Laughing at long lost victories
Cringing with an aging body
And departing at sunset
When the rust glows
Dragging home his secret indignity
Tonight his wealthy son
Is evicting him
For missing his rent
All My Exes Live in Texas by AndySerrano, literature
Literature
All My Exes Live in Texas
Chapter 11: All My Exes Live In Texas
Beer-bellied, barrel-chested, unshaven, Dakota, was driving home to Phoenix in his rust-covered GM pick-up, so filthy that people couldn't quite make out its color. His left crusty elbow poked out the window. He held Coors beer in his hand and was listening to George Strait songs on an all-country radio station. Janet had just phoned him a few minutes ago from Los Angeles, "Dakota? Ah'm comin' to pay ya a visit this weekend, just for old time sake. I can't remember why we ever broke up."
"That's good news," he thought, "maybe she'll cook me some pig's feet and I'll get some tail." He was getting close t