i was walking by the candy store
when i tripped and stumbled over myself
fell into a sticky-bud bush
lay there for about a week, stuck
it was hard to get up when i had only one free hand
the other gripped by gripping a loaded roachclip
a delightful dark light
an accursed, cursing, curvaceous bitch
my sweet lover, the loaded roachclip
stuck to the bush, flat on my back
i suck on the loaded roachclip, my lollipop
(Published in High Street: Lawyers, Guns & Money in a Stoner’s New Mexico (2012, Outpost 19); copyright 2023 by Tetman Callis.)
when paul the attorney sees me in the hallway,
he says, i’m looking for justice. i tell him
there’s been a misunderstanding, that we no longer
speak that language here, that justice has left
the building, saying she’s not coming back
until we come to our collective senses, drive
the money-changers from the temple, burn
the temple to the ground, grind the rubble to a fine
gray ash, sprinkle the ash on our heads
while we wail and mourn and rend our fashionable
clothing, fall on our faces and weep into the dirt,
and promise her we will learn to speak her
language again. paul smiles at me as if i’ve lost my mind.
(Copyright 2023 by Tetman Callis.)
“This Republic means something. It means something to me. I’ve buried a lot of soldiers, and my dad and mom fought in World War II, relatives that fought in a lot different wars. And this country means something, and Constitution means something. And it’s bigger than us, bigger than any one of us, and we’ve got to protect it. If we don’t protect it, then God help us down the road.” – Gen. Mark A. Milley, USA, November 17, 2021