fuck it yeah fuck it wide fuck it deep fuck it til it hurts til it can’t recover fuck it til tomorrow ain’t ever going to happen fuck it round the clock fuck it around the block fuck it through the tunnel fuck it in the cave fuck it up in the trees fuck it up on the roof fuck it down in the basement fuck it on tee vee fuck it on the radio fuck it on the poe lease band fuck it til it smokes baby til it smokes like you fuck it on fire scarecrow fire fuck it sitting in that little cab in the back of the fire truck steering the back end like eye steer your back end around the corner right around the corner fuck it in the emergency room fuck it in the cancer ward fuck it up on the mountain top fuck it just fuck it
there is no sanctuary
none that eye can count on none that eye know none that just opens itself up to me like the sky opens up like the earth opens up like my madness open up and folds in on itself eye don’t need much eye ain’t asking for much all eye need is a little respite a little cover a little cool shade just need to come in from under the sun the bright bright sun that is
my so-called future
eye am on fire eye am burst into flames fantastic four fashion flame on things move so fast eye fear the friction eye fear the fiction fear the fission fear the fishin’ fear the fuck baby fuck the fear
fear the future
fear the former fear the forgotten faraway past
way back when way back in the seventh grade back when the seventh grade was junior high back in the state named for the virgin queen good queen bess who never got fucked tis a shame tis a sadness
eye mean didn’t sir walter
yeah twas the seventh grade
yeah girlfriend remember the seventh grade all the young things came back from the summer they the sweet young girlies with their girly ways they returned from the summer of my discontent they returned to class with cute little titties where before there were none returned to class with ass that turned my head my first case of whiplash that began that permanent trail of drool that followed me into my dirty old manhood
the seventh grade so innocent so rich with debauched thoughts all eye wanted was you eye knew you then eye prayed to you then all eye wanted was you all eye wanted was to explore that which eye could only imagine that which eye could sense was heaven on earth
eye fear no evil for thine is the kingdom
the seventh grade we had angels oh we had angels blonde and shapely and heavenly we had angels but we didn’t have no black people in the seventh grade in my seventh grade no african americans no colored peoples no knee grows no nigras going to our school we was white we was caw kay zhun
we was pure of heart and mind
in the seventh grade the black folks in the great state of the virgin bess in the black days after there was no martin in the black days after there was no bobby in the black days when jimi and janice decided dancing death beat the band in the black days whilst eye waited for my pubic hairs to come in just didn’t seem right to pray to jesus to bring me my bush
but eye did
in the seventh grade the black folks they had their own schools they had mount sinai elementary school they had mary bethune high school they didn’t come to our school we didn’t go to their school
we didn’t even play them in football
we was so blissfully ignorant the world was perfect the sun revolved around our earth the plants and animals were placed on this land for our benefit to do with what we may the world was crisp and cool and clear and so was
my so-called future
eye am on fire eye am burst into flames fantastic four fashion flame on things move so fast eye fear the friction eye fear the fiction fear the fission fear the fishin’ fear the fuck baby fuck the fear
fear the future
fear the former fear the forgotten faraway past
yes the war raged in vietnam yes the hippies ran rampant in the streets the indian chief he got on tee vee someone threw a bag of garbage at his feet cocksucker cried like a faggot child marsha brady and marlo thomas and laurie partridge gave me a seventh grade hardon like eye’ve never had since eye stroked it in the shower while thinking of cynthia smith my first blonde girlfriend eye knew she was a true blonde eye had peeked at her through a hole in the dressing room at the pool yeah in the seventh grade we had closed off the sixties we had entered the seventies eye didn’t know the difference eye think it was the beginning of the end of innocence that time when those in the sixties began fucking those of us in the seventies in nineteen seventy one eye saw the seventh grade in nineteen seventy two eye saw it in my rear view mirror
then eye saw her face now eye’m a believer
then eye touched her cunt now eye’m a believer
then in the eighth grade the good people in washington dee cee in their generous benevolence in their inherent wisdom in their quest for fire they decided we should all play together they decided they loved the little children all the little children of the world red and yellow black and white we’re all precious in their sight they all loved the little children of the world in the eighth grade eye learned a new word that new word was
integration
in the eighth grade they threw us all in a big paper bag full of black pepper whole wheat flour bread crumbs they rolled up the top they shook us up baby it was shake and bake and eye helped poured us out into the room full of desks blackboards overhead projectors chalk wax pencils white folks black folks my buddies joe exum jeffery oaks mike childress they was angry they said they didn’t want to go to school with any niggers they said they didn’t
eye wondered what the black girls were gonna wear
in the eighth grade eye met waymond johnson first day of eighth grade eye met waymond johnson walked right up to him said hey he looked down at me he said hey in the eighth grade waymond johnson was eighteen he was eighteen in the eighth grade seemed rather symmetrical don’t you know eight grades eighteen years he could probably do a one eighty dunk on the hoop he might have had eighteen hundred hundred days left to live eye don’t know
eye never saw waymond johnson after the eighth grade
throughout the rest of the seventies through part of the eighties eye heard lots of stories eye heard waymond johnson joined the army and died in a helicopter accident while traveling at high speeds low over the desert in eye ran in nineteen and seventy nine eye heard waymond johnson got shot while robbing a liquor store in nineteen seventy four right after nixon resigned eye heard waymond johnson quit school got himself a job hauling logs out in the woods in nineteen seventy six ended up dead beneath a falling tree eye think it was a cedar maybe cypress eye heard waymond johnson moved to nebraska went to work digging post holes for some rancher got bit by a rattlesnake in nineteen and eighty three he was
dead and buried
eye heard waymond johnson never learned to read or write ended up picking tobacco the next town over far as anyone knows he’s still picking tobacco maybe he expanded over into soy beans hell eye heard ol’ waymond got lucky met himself a fine woman got married got himself a job over at the textile mill had himself a couple three kids maybe he’s sitting out on his front porch right now right this very moment watching his eighteen year old daughter drive up with her boyfriend in one of them new mustangs
maybe he found jesus better yet maybe jesus found him
but in the eighth grade waymond johnson he was eighteen years old must have felt odd he must have felt a little out of place must have made him sad angry to be so out of place he was an eighteen year old black kid big black kid not big fat but big phat big like an eighteen year old man who could work hard labor in the summer and after school hell he be big compared to the rest of us thirteen year old runts in the eighth grade big enough he scared the hell out of me in the eighth grade
waymond johnson scared the shit outa everyone in the eighth grade
nobody knew waymond johnson yeah some of the other black kids in the grade some of them said yeah we know waymond’s people we know where waymond stay nobody knew waymond’s momma nobody knew waymond’s daddy nobody knew waymond’s sisters or brothers somebody said waymond lived with his grandmamma somebody said waymond lived with his great aunt somebody said waymond lived by himself in a shack on the edge of the field that separated the textile factory from the piney wood swamp
hell us white boys we’d believe anything because we were too scared to find out the truth the only truth eye cared about was between cynthia’s legs and she wasn’t spreading the truth for nobody
but she couldn’t tell me no lie eye knew
eye peeked through the hole in the dressing room wall down at the pool yeah in the eighth grade me and joe exum we snuck up and peeked through that hole we saw cynthia saw her take off that very very complicated bra her little nipples stuck out like pencil erasers we saw her take off those cute pink panties show us blonde fuzz glisten in the bare yellow light her friend kathy powell she looked up she saw my eyeballs peeking popping through the hole she pointed she yelled we ran joe he stumbled and fell
eye waited for him to get up
eye wait for love and it finds me every day
the first day of eighth grade eye found waymond johnson rather he found me gym class first period coach he thought a good way for us all to get along red and yellow black and white we were precious in his sight the best way for us all to get along we needed a healthy game of dodge ball a little something to bring us together a little healthy competition a little smack upside the head to bring out the love
waymond johnson he eighteen in the eighth grade he could palm the ball
coach he divided us up on the basketball court me on one team waymond johnson on the other team eye walked right up to waymond johnson first day of eighth grade eye said hey he looked down at me he said hey eye said looking up at him from my subservient if not fetal position eye said hey usually you know anybody who sits near me usually they get pretty good grades waymond johnson he looked down at me he said
cool
eye turned around walked back toward my team the whistle blew eye felt heard the ball buzz by my ear see it slap joe exum right in the face joe goes down opening day duck at dawn over a cold swamp single shot from the cannon that was waymond johnson’s right arm joe’s arms a split second too late they go up trying to block the shot he didn’t have a shot in hell splatt his face an abrupt burning blotchy red an innocent ass porn paddled coach wets a whistle points to the sideline joe does the slow waltz the walk of shame
eye turn and look at waymond johnson whistling
my so-called future
eye am on fire eye am burst into flames fantastic four fashion flame on things move so fast eye fear the friction eye fear the fiction fear the fission fear the fishin’ fear the fuck baby fuck the fear
fear the future
fear the former fear the forgotten faraway past
waymond johnson eighteen years old in the eighth grade never saw waymond johnson after the eighth grade waymond johnson he sat near me in math class in the eighth grade eye think he did oh kay he got by when he left eighth grade he could do decimals and fractions eye never saw waymond johnson after the eighth grade but in the eighth grade he could throw a dodge ball like a goddamn baseball pity the fool that got caught in waymond johnson’s radar lock and load love and rockets
the sound that ball made smacking on bare skin kind of tinny a baseball on an aluminum bat eye get nostalgic for it a tear comes to my eye whenever eye happen to see a little league baseball game the pitch is in the batter swings
ting
high pitched pubescent screams of waymond johnson’s victims gabriel’s trumpets blaring in multiple octaves eye listened to tee rex in the eighth grade waymond johnson he listened to curtis mayfield in the eighth grade me the slider him the superfly they his victims they rolled on the gym floor like they were on fire drop and roll baby white kids black kids he didn’t care he had no mercy sometimes he’d just play with them he’d trap some poor cocksucker in the corner he’d have a couple of balls he’d wail the balls with dead on accuracy barely missing the guy’s head hitting the wall with such terrifying explosive smacks sometimes the victim would just fall and cry
no sanctuary
none that eye can count on none that eye know none that just opens itself up to me like the sky opens up like my madness opens up and fold in on itself eye don’t need much eye ain’t asking for much all eye need is a little respite a little cover a little cool shade just need to come in from under the sun the bright bright sun that is
my so-called future
eye never really got smacked hard by waymond johnson’s shots eye never fell victim to his vicious volleys eye never had to meet it head on me the slider me eye got by eye saw those from my clan go down one by one me the slider me eye got by
don’t know whatever happened to waymond johnson after the eighth grade me eye went on to the ninth grade natural order of things waymond johnson don’t know where he went eye heard stories hey whatever happened to waymond johnson hell i don’t know i heard this i heard that
eye hope he’s still superfly
the seventh grade the eighth grade innocence purity waymond johnson and all that
