by Benjamin Drevlow
Mister Zappy
When I was a kid my dad sold electricity to keep the lights on.
It took a lot of explaining from my mom to explain how somebody could sell electricity.
Like God?
Kinda.
I never really did figure it out.
And I still don’t really.
But I was never good at science.
Or religion.
And my dad never explained shit.
Didn’t have to.
He had the power of electricity.
He could literally make your light bulb go off.
Or smite you where you piss in the wind.
how you know this poem is a goodass poem
because it’s got mother-
fuckin’ line breaks
& a yearling pig
a man about to
shoot said yearling pig
a commentary
on the color of their eyes
on innocence
and bacon
that doesn’t rhyme
or follow
a strict meter
but ends with
a young girl
with a dandelion
singing mama had a baby
and its head fell off
to the tune of pigs
squealing and dying
the stench of death
and feces
it takes a real turn
at the end.
****
drevlow is EIC of BULL and poet laureate of bullshit, usa. You can check out more of his bull shit at thedrevlow-olsonshow.com or on twitter, insta, face, bsky, & threads @thedrevlow.