The Eel People (Part II, Hid in an Egg)

Part II
The Eel People
(Hid in an Egg)


There was no key to life, so I would find out—in the great city of San
Francisco, back in 1968-69, if there was a key it was in my head,
my head, somewhere in my head; so I simply walked the streets
of Castro, Mission, Dolores, I’d walk, day after day, caught the
trolley along the way. In those far off days—everything in Frisco
seemed to move, I, myself was in a state of poverty, I knew,
and I think everyone I knew, knew, but I didn’t care who knew
back then, I was but twenty-one. Strange, how things work out,
soon thereafter, after I’d leave San Francisco, I’d be in Boot Camp,
down South, and onto Europe, and in time back to Minnesota.
But back to Castro, the streets were full of homosexuals, trying to pick up
my cigarette putts, to prime me I suppose, to their abodes, bars,
buy me drinks, in hopes and wishes, and so forth…but I escaped
their whims, and desires, and universe; I guess that remains
with us, even if you’re not of the same strain, it gnaws at yaw.
Enough of that, --cancel it! What came, or comes, is gone, and good.
Leave it closed, for no regrets, they just gave me toothaches.

I then went to Mexico, met my brother in Montclair, California,
got robbed, and bare, by three fat Mexicans, they almost laughed,
(I hid my money in my sock, bare I might be, but with socks on)
Alas, offering them what change I had in my pockets, they
moaned, and groaned, but took it, and the whore left me alone
(she was part of the set up…sex that way is only pleasure,
happiness does not come along for the ride…you marry for that).
I suppose I didn’t mind, we all must sacrifice to the hungry hounds
sooner or later, and to the hounds of Mexico, why not?
and the roar of the Mexican skull came, frowned, that he only
got, $22-dollars from me, some change…! no more, yet
five hundred dollars remained in my sock, and I walked out of that
mess, with no broken ribs. Ai! Thank God, all I had was a
laughing eye, lucky that day, but in years to come, luck would
stay with me, would remain. Two plane crashes, a heart attack, a stroke,
a few close calls in the war of Vietnam, I feel like a cat with nine
lives. At Sixty, you have to grab the last moments you remember, they
fade quickly. In saying that, let me explain:
“Later perhaps…” I tell myself, but I don’t foresee later, nowadays,
so for you I got to write my first thoughts, lest, I lose them.

So much I didn’t know. God waiting for me in the void, waiting
for me to wake up, and grab his palm. Taking my eyes out of the dim
clouds, and instead of dreaming, I became all I could, told the dream
to shove off. I told myself each year, I was getting too close to the
grave, thus, move and become, I set the halo down, and believe it,
the war was on. Triumph after triumph…and I even made peace
with God!
The main problem along the way, was the eel people, the incapable
people, whom want you to become like them, incapable…oh yes,
yes indeed, the eel people, breed, bread I say, breed eel people
—they have no sun on the mind,
no, nothing, just existence, a pitiful group they are… you know them,
freaked in the brain, lost to cocaine. Cannot, or will not adjust to
change. Hid in an egg (you could say) waiting like idiot for the
snowman to walk, talk, and play their games.
We are the forever people, headed for the end, and the eel people, are
right behind, asleep.

#2197 1-30-2008