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 stinking shit,

(Like they did to that Jeopardy contestant),

Taking something innocent, pure, from my childhood,

Turning it into something profoundly ugly.

iv

Being "woke" has its own dark side.

If you try hard enough,

You can turn little kitten purrs

Into the most egregious, politically correct act

Against so-called polite, good smelling society.

v

I will have none of it, my friends. Excuse me,

While I puke my guts out, sitting on the can,

(Having a beautiful shit).

After washing face and wiping ass, I will sit

In my closet and flip the A-Okay gesture

To my cat like a gang symbol.