a sketch from my personal album of poem-portraits |
“Oedipus Rex” They call me Johnny the gimp My mother tried to kill me the day I was born And left me a cripple for life Locked in a permanent struggle just to survive As a boy, I dreamed of climbing the Himalayas Or of fording the rapids on the Columbia River But ended on a corner in Times Square instead I labored mightily, saved every penny Proposed to the first girl who would let me kiss her But who could love a cripple? Then I found raven-haired Tess Hovering like an angel above the gutter With eyes so large they swallowed my heart like a tidal wave And sugar flowed from all her pores like molasses Whore, pusher, junky, thief Yet to me she seemed more beautiful than life Which I gladly would have sacrificed for love Though all she wanted was my money One evening, a man came to our door Proud and arrogant as any pimp can be And Tess, lying on the day bed, just waved him inside So he swaggered past and took her with hardly a glance at me When it was over, she gave him cash that I had hidden away I ran out in the cold, slept in doorways, tried to destroy myself But my heart was too strong and my body too used to pain When Tess died brutally at the hands of the pimp I went to the funeral and looked down in her coffin And laughed till I cried because it felt so good |