Million Dollar Extreme

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 24, 2018

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Submitted: August 24, 2018



Million Dollar Extreme


And why shouldn’t I be allowed

to order a hundred dollar steak

with food stamps? Don’t you know

I gamble on horse races with

Great Value Swishers and five for one

Clippers? I’ve waited all year to eat,

chewing up poison wood

tree bark and Uncle Ben rice packs,

sometimes a Salisbury steak.

I’ve refinanced the house for

the appetizer and took out a loan

for drinks. It cost me three hours

to make it on my ten speed bike riding

downhill, my tweed jacket two sizes

too big, yet here I am, settling a bill

the size of my phone payments, drinking

Champagne with the yuppies like

a yokel at a silent auction. Each eye, I know,

stares and asks, ‘who is this man,’ and I’ll

tell you: I’m not the the kind of guy who

fucks sober if I can help it.

My gated community isn’t more than

a single wide under God’s eye in the middle

of a Georgia trailer park. The animals

I shoot aren’t big game from a safari,

but the damn squirrels chewing up

my yard. I’m salting the gold mines.

I’m hash drifting an American dream.

Let me close me eyes a moment

and recount the way ash falls

from the edge of a Black and Mild:

cool, smooth, and sweet like honeycomb

in the rivers of poor Paul’s liquor closet.


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