THERE ONCE WAS TWO PEOPLE GIVING THANKS-THEN ONE GOT SHOT

DETROIT AIN’T WHERE YOU’RE AT.

Thanksgiving Detroit style

can be often odd as two people

fucking in public on Main Street.

Who gets the meal?

The ones having sex

or the ones with the view?

We are after all known as

the City of Ruin Porn.

Thanksgiving Detroit style can often be different;

months spent advertising during prime time

for food and money to give away to the destitute.

At least if they had begged for the TV time

they would have not paid to try to guilt people

out of fucking money to pay the big bosses nonprofit salary,

non taxed salary for the internet licensed pulpit pimp

which he gets off the top before his flock gathers

for few more ice block, chemically grown turkeys

thrown off the back of the rented armored truck

for people to try to catch without getting a concussion.

It is harder to fight for food with a head injury.

Man, I am strangely thankful for the fingers that fly

when the truck door slams down on twenty empty boxes

that held 5 birds each to feed a city starving to death.

Bow your heads at the near empty table and pray

“dear God let me get to the front of the line early enough

to be the first one in the store

and may them behind me trample each other

while I get mine

and thank you for this macaroni and cheese.

Please let there be enough so the kids can have some too,

you know how I love my mac and cheese. Amen.”

No shit headline news:

36 hours without a single gunshot that hit a human,

not one murder either.

I think it’s just the police fucking

with the Main Street headlines

and they simply haven’t found the bodies yet.

We still kill in the cold

because

we have learned to be cold.

Three years ago we went 28 hours;

though I still don’t think Guinness is coming

except in an aluminum keg

for them who own the coal.

I know there were guns fired but fuck ‘em,

the ignorant never train for aim

only respect Detroit style,

just make noise as they roll along

being bad ass pretending to make my dirty Harry day.

Clint Eastwood. He’s a local boy. He made one movie here.

36 hours of fucking misses---

means 36 hours of poor aim

or pretty weedy hiding spots,

either way the internet story comments

are simple minded,

disguised racist

and cynical.

I like the comments more than the ill-informed story

because

it is so great to be hated for the color of my neighbor’s skin.

I mean that as the only deadly serious line in this piece.

I walk every mile in the shoes of others

as long as I live in this fucked up

and fucked over morally bankrupt area.

And for that I am truly thankful.

© M Durfee

11.27.2013