THE ARISTOCRATS


The agent has a heart
to weight his papers down.
He checks the time for signs of life,
the hands just spin around
like worlds around a star.
We're getting nowhere fast.
The agent's thankful for your time,
and extends his shaking hand.
Promptly then at two
a family of four arrive:
a father, daughter, son, and wife
smiling double-wide.
The father says hello,
man do I have this show.
I'd like to make a pilot
if you give it half a go.
Well, show me what you have, I guess.
But try to make it quick.
The family rev their hope engines,
and this is what they pitched:


We open on a man named Gain,
one hale and hearty life to give.
He thinks he'd rather keep it though,
in case it collects interest.
Brother Gain would so love cotton,
he named his youngest son Gin,
and when the boy becomes a man,
he made his name by trying women
in the rivers of old salem,
in the arenas of the law,
where starved lions presided
with gavels in each sightless paw.
Now, let's pretend my wife's a slaveship.
Watch me ride her to the mall,
where we will pan out as the masses
drown the mast in alcohol.
And above us Audobon is flying
on a double eagle's back.
He is circling the tombs
hoping the Skull & Bones will tap.
But if you ask me he'll wait forever.
They don't knock or even call.
They just shimmy down our chimney,
sweep their bugs under our walls.
Even the rats are getting nervous
up and down Old Brick Row.
They were the only ones who saw them take
the sacred skull of Geronimo.
And they stole Gutenberg's bible
for the glue inside its spine.
The black chalice they pass spills
over like homeless shelter lines.
There is no fire inside this fireplace
and there hasn't been in years.
The paintings are all fake here.
Even ones that are real.
Harkness watches from his tower,
all the rare books on the wall.
He keeps his head bronze on the mantle.
Going to the Cadaver Ball.
But first he must do laundry.
He sorts the colors from the whites.
Buying up old buildings;
he is cleaning his insides.
Because not even death will touch him now.
Cancer keeps her kiss.
Mirrors look over his shoulder.
Cameras change the subject.


The family stops the show at that.
The kids drink from the sink.
The parents face their palms straight up.
Mister, what do you think?
Well, the agent drops his jaw
and fills his pen with wine.
Says, "I think I'd like to know what its called,"
and draws a dotted line.
The family form a kickline then
and smiling double-wide,
they said "we call it The Aristocrats!"
Then they take the pen and sign, alright.


Alright, alright.




DAS - New Haven, Connecticut, USA