Jimbo In Ah Jam
This Chicken potpie is frozen cold for the upteenth time, the chicken must have died of hypothermia before it was envisioned as food. Ain’t been home for days, the backseat of my vehicle in that parking lot out there is what does me in. On my back for the dozing off, owner of the factory sees no effects from the extra hours piled on. Owes me money as we speak like i’m the southern preacher, the blinds go shut when I come to knock. Minute by minute, these men smell like a pigpen. Too prideful to take a quick whore’s bath in the restroom. Deodorant was not introduced to many of them, makes me question if they sell them in the countries they come from. On the books, i’m a mechanic but i’m the lowest form of it. It’s like mopping the floors of the army base, i’m still in the army. If my car breaks down, the mechanic has to take it to the useful mechanic. I may monopolize the claw machine repair market but that market is running dry like Boston Markets. The soda fountain machine repair mechanic’s name tag holds more weight than I do, the savior during the summer. Those washing machine mechanics up in new york are the savior to those apartment critters, big dreams can’t be made if your clothes stink. Even if you shower, you’ll be escorted out from the job interview or meeting because they think you are an undercover bum. I don’t even know how I got into this mess, one day I was really good at kickball then the next i’m fixing machines that scam you out of getting a kickball. Too busy being good at kickball lead to me being taken advantage of and i’ve had enough of it, taking a piss break then break off from this place. The owner won’t do anything to me, he’s silhouetted into the darkness of his office. I’ll admit, it feels a bit off being out of work this early in the day. I keep looking over my shoulder to see if no sniper got a shot on me, a freed man. The sense of shame of sending this car back to the mechanic for this one way trip is too great, i’m outta this state and you can keep the license plate! The hound bus is so much of a fuss, i’ll prolong it till it is necessary. I’ll go along the seas for a bit, right for Montgomery and left for Baton Rouge. Get my mind right with the waves of the water, higher tides but a settled heart rate. I could go work for a cruise ship but I don’t want to be a servant or a butler to those people who are doing better than me. Leaving something i’ve only known feels like left I go, backwards is where Baton Rouge is. I think a raft is what I need, the natural sunset will reset my soul. Those fluorescent lights from the factory floor killed the imagination that was in me, anything I said while there was all imaginary. On the raft I set sail, I doubt that Baton Rouge needs me. Maybe I’ll be another Southern Preacher, you pay for my tales. Preaching about Southern living, the sea is kept untouched but the city is expanding. Sharpened stick is more sharp than the dull knife I sharpened it with, I got it right beside me incase I got to do sword fighting with the flat footed fish. I got some drinking water besides me, spinning chair with some witches is what you gonna play if you drink the sea water. This slingshot right here is for some poultry that flies by while I ride this coast line. I ain’t got the time but I got forty four dollars and a couple of dimes. Slumber is indulged in around this time, they’re unaware of the nobody man that set sail. Bless the first dive bar I see upon arrival with a tale that is free for this first gathering, a peak to my ode to the southern preacher that didn’t over doze.