Bonanza

Gordon George’s
Estwing Bonanza

tweaks recognition, that
underrepresented showcase
of carnival barkery.

At its finest,
you’ll see Jeffrey Finito——
attractive man of misery
and attentive sham of Mister T——
slaloming
down the underweather pass to
transfer schmaltz patterns
to his underwater dentist’s
cauldron collection,
one schmutz at a time.

Insomuch – 18:18GMT

We take with us all matter of things, insomuch as it stands to be ever an incher of pincher cinchers, where schnitzel bricks spend all-day expeditions of exquisite daydream clamfaces–by the cola machine is where our lord takes his things. Bitter nut jobs make extraordinary leaps through our galaxy, but never when you have an economy rooted in capitalism, that dollar ever-chained to something way older than our collective responsibilities and squared up to a door we must have forgotten like a stamp mailed on a letter to the dentist some Tuesday back in December when the weather was much nicer but the days were much shorter and you sure as hell don’t miss that one bit, as goddamn cold as it may be right now, god dammit. I really wish I could use my arms.

A Faithful Fonz

I’ll heave a hefty bag at the situation
and tell my dentist that I really don’t want
anything to do with these Fonzie imitators anymore.

They’re all so obsessed with having
a good time and donning leather jackets
that I’m just getting sick of it all!

How tired a custom is this, where you’re reduced
to spouting cliché catchphrases at gunpoint?
Remember when you took that loan from the mafia,

and they told you that they would be expecting
a favor in return some day? Well, your bell’s been rung,
buddy. All you can do now is pray that you get

in touch with Henry Winkler, for the purpose of
delivering a faithful Fonz to your brutal overlords.
I mean, otherwise, they might end up breaking
your fingers and toes. I wouldn’t consider that
situation to be 100% ideal, would you?

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