Friday, December 07, 2007

Meet the Sandwich Man


I wrote me a poem. This was back during the depression, but I wrote me a poem that was so powerful, so incredible, that it had the ability to change the perception of anyone who experienced it.

I used to recite this poem everywhere I’d go. People would just open up like dandelions and they’d take the poem where ever they’d go. And, there weren’t no more struggling, weren’t no more strife. People made sure each other was fed and clothed, and they didn’t need no police, no church and no trials cause they weren’t no crime. That poem made every place to which it was spoken into an Eden. I were Eden even in the midst of Depression. Eden.

Then a man in a suit asked me if I would speak my poem for the government. He said the government were going to give me my very own radio station and fill in all the cavities in my teeth.

The only condition were I weren’t to tell my poem to no one in person. No face to face. If I were to get my very own radio station, I were to only say the poem into the microphone what was at the station. And, I had no problem with that. Seemed like trading in a slingshot for a howitzer.

I thought I’d now be spreading the word. I thought I had the catbird seat. So, I make my mark on the paper, and first thing first, they fill in the holes on all my teeth. I were weak for sweets, so I had cavities in every tooth but this one. Government fillings made my mouth warm, but it weren’t till later I found out why.

So the station they give me is out to the middle of the desert, not even barely dirt roads. They say since that there were a war on, this was all they could do for, and not to worry. Once the war was won, we’d upgrade the station. So, I lived there at the station, and once a week I’d see the man in the suit come by with groceries and what not ask me how I’d been.

During those years, aside from him there were no one I saw face to face. It were lonesome, but I stuck with it cause I thought I was coast to coast on the air spreading the word. It weren’t until some native American happened by with one of those battery powered radios that I found out I weren’t broadcasting no where. They put me in the station and gave me the microphone, but they weren’t no signal. The antenna on the roof were bunk.

Once, I figured it out, I fled. And once Idid they were after me. Then every time I’d land in a place where I could settle for a bit, I’d think to tell my poem to somebody again. Tell em to their face and spread the word. But before I could speak the poem my mouth would start to burn. Those government fillings would sizzle red hot. It got so if I even just though of the poem my teeth would burn and turn my spit to steam. I couldn’t eat. I could barely drink. I got so I was fearing the worst.

I knew they was looking for me. So, finally I let the man in the suit catch up. I remember it were a full moon and the van pulled up next to me. They put me in the van, and they give me a shot of something. When I woke up they had taken all my teeth. They left me with just the one right here. The tooth with no filling.

Now before they let me go though, they made me put my mark on some paper meaning that I wasn;t going to say me poem, my special poem to no one no more.

Maybe you want to hear it? Maybe you want it to open you up? To hell with the FBI. I’d tell you if you asked except it’s been so long.

(Touched his mouth)

I can’t…I can’t remember it all. It aint nothing without I say the whole thing through. And it’s been so long I can’t remember it all.

They still tail me in case it comes back I guess. They want to make sure I wont speak it. I can’t. I can’t. But they don’t stop hounding me. They got a man in suit and they got a man what is a wolf man follow me all the time day or night. I can’t tell you that poem. But, I got some new poems though. I got some new ones I want to share with ya.

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