Seven meditations on the Film “Monster”

For turning the tables,
she a Monster.

For blasting a few good old boys
who were out seeking blow jobs,
she a Monster.

Oh yeah, she a Monster. Sure as I am standing
here talking to you.

I’m telling you sure as chicken fried steak,
we cain’t have no homeless hookers
out blasting away at innocent johns
here in the fine state of Flaw-ida.

When we catch her, we gone fry her like
catfish without batter.

Of course, they caught her.
Of course, they fried her.
Southern justice cannot exist
without electricity,
toxic needles and leather straps.

They created her.
We created her,
but we will never admit it.

Monsters are genetic aberrations.

They’re spawned
from human ooze,
not born of the
same promise as
the rest of us
fine, upstanding

We reserve the right
to execute Monsters.

God said we could.

Two conservatively
dressed WASP women
enter the East Hampton
movie theater.

Clearly, they do not know
what this movie is about,
but since one of the actors
involved has just won a prestigious
award, they feel obligated to see
what was so special about her

They sit and quietly watch
as a desperate, lonely woman plays catch with suicide
as she trades openly in the only commodity she has
ever known,
as collages of childhood abuse flash in and out,
as she is bound, gagged, raped repeatedly and beaten
bloody by a john,
as she executes her first victim POP!
as she executes another POP!
as she executes another POP!
as she executes another POP!
as she executes another POP!
as she executes another POP!

They sit and quietly watch until,
the desperate, lonely, suicidal,
abused, sodomized, raped, beaten,
serial killer
begins to make love to…a woman.

At which point, one WASP
with gray hair
leans toward the WASP
with brown hair and
whispers, “We have to go now.”
The WASP with brown hair
nods solemnly.
They rise and leave.

They will probably demand a refund.

This is the state of their America,
your America, our America, my America.

Where we can sit and without comment observe:
the abuse of children,
the bartering of body parts
the sad desperation of
debating life and suicide.

Where we can sit and without comment observe:
forced sodomy,
but the line is crossed,
the camel’s back snapped,
the final straw realized,
when two people of the same sex…kiss.

I love you America, but
you get harder to love by the day.


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