A-Okay
[This narrative poem was inspired by Charles Bukowski, the giant of "dirty realism" and "transgressive fiction."] i During my innocence (childhood, post-puberty, young adult) And up until three years ago The "A-Okay" hand signal Was my personal sign of approval: I'm okay...you're okay... That hot chick in high school English (the one with the big tits & ass) was okay. Drinking eight cans of Old English 800 (and a fifth of MD 20/20 on 21st birthday) was okay. Scoring Oregon sticky green bud at 26 was also okay. ii Now it all stinks to high hell: Like baby shit... Like the wine shits... Like Metformin diarrhea shits... What-in-the-fuck is wrong with people? iii The Three-Percenters: A slime-ball white supremist group Has stolen my beloved symbol. (cultural appropriation or political thievery?) Now I fear for my peace of mind, To think about it, let alone do it. Because some latte-sipping, turd-like elitist, scumbag Will smear me with their own s