troysherdahl

babycanyou… brew me some tea?

babycanyou… massage my feet?

babycanyou… make me some toast?

pleeeeeeease, baby-baby…

I love you the most

babycanyou… make me a decaf?

babycanyou… oh baby, don’t laugh

babycanyou… look what you’ll get

pleeeeeeease, baby-baby…

I love you, my pet

the sweet sell

the soft sell

the sex sell

always

works

with

babycanyou…

Halo 4 on xbox 360

PlayStation 3

Nintendo to Wii

really don’t mean jack-50

to the inner child in me

this gameBoy’s not dead

my console’s hardwired

in my head

I see them clear as an X-mas day

Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots

fighting the Battling Tops

in the same ring

G.I. Joe and a Yo-Yo

defending freedom; free spinning

Tonka makes great trucks, you know?

to play with out in back

Hot Wheels fly and loop-dee-loop

down orange plastic tracks

red monkeys from a barrel

want to hang, dangle and fall

like that little silver ball

in Mouse Trap— snap!

Halo 4 on xbox 360

PlayStation 3

Nintendo to Wii

really don’t mean jack-50

to the inner child in me

this gameBoy’s not dead

my console’s hardwired

in my head

Tinker Toys to Lincoln Logs

Meccano, Erector and those Lego blocks

had us building stuff with gusto

wearing grandma’s handmade socks

my sister baked a brown manifesto

in her little Easy-Bake Oven

hockey stick, a baseball glove

the Trouble dice a-poppin’

we got a new boardgame every year; to share

like that big ol’ wood toboggan

but I wouldn’t play Barbie, man

not even with Ken in my hand

maybe with G.I. Joe, though

Halo 4 on xbox 360

PlayStation 3

Nintendo to Wii

really don’t mean jack-50

to the inner child in me

this gameBoy’s not dead

my console’s hardwired

in my head

Lite-Brite thingies up my nose

who did that, do you suppose?

Pick Up Sticks, Slinky, Ker Plunk

Operation Etch-A-Sketch

my Battleship is sunk

what’s your Clue, Silly Putty?

is she a Mastermind?

time for Crazy Carpets, buddy

on the big hill out behind

what? you got a Penny skateboard?

hah! you can’t use that until summer

dude, isn’t that a total bummer

my mom says it won’t be long, ’til you break your Stretch Armstrong

Halo 4 on xbox 360

PlayStation 3

Nintendo to Wii

really don’t mean jack-50

to the inner child in me

this gameBoy’s not dead

my console’s hardwired

in my head

I’m Sorry! gameBoy wrap is done

memory still full

no AA’s needed

waa-aa waa-aa waa!     waa waa waa

civil war cannons

this town is just abandoned

Tuco Ramirez grunts and huh’s?

his eyes dart and he warily whuh’s?

creeping in through bombed out walls

this hotel has rubble in the halls

he gets up to the second floor

opens up the luxury suite door

behind the swinging gates he rubs

the deserted, high-back copper tub

the water is still somewhat tepid

he finds four jars to make his bath all bubbled

Morricone’s score is epic

Leone, he has the magic

Wallach’s face, so comic

is Spaghetti Western classic

Tuco’s nemesis, the one-armed bounty hunter

has seen that Tuco has gone inside to plunder

he follows him in to kill him finally

Tuco oblivious, fingers his teeth all sudsy

one-armed guy comes in a-creeping

Tuco in the tub, grunting and a-cleaning

one-armed guy bursts through swinging doors hot

is Tuco surprised? we see that he’s not

one-arm says, “You’re exactly in the place that suits me.

I had lots of time to learn how to shoot with my left,” see?

Tuco’s gun clicks under suds— a blam! explodes from bubbles

one-armed lefty, back he tumbles

blam! blam! blam! and a fifth to make sure

one-armed hunter has met his maker

naked Tuco standing at the swinging door, mocks

“When you have to shoot, shoot! Don’t talk.”

waa-aa waa-aa waa!     waa waa waa

I died playing a game

didn’t I, Margaret?

gameboards without borders

Margaret’s clues collide

dirty nights and party slights

is Herbert’s homicide

my wounds float on fire

bars on her windows

and I’m wrapped in barbwire

the warning signs were juxtaposed

hidden by desire

to the bed frame from the sink

9 times 9 is S and L Suzy

what was in that little drink?

I’m feeling kinda woozy

3 hours earlier—

“Turn the lamp on, Suzy girl

it’s too dark in here”

“Sure, baby and could you

take off my necklace, please?”

I roll the dice and move nine spaces

but I don’t get the square I need

“Your new glasses are cool, are they prescription?”

she looks up from a cherry juicy

“No, but don’t they look sexy?” she says

I nod and say, “absolutely”

I don’t feel so good and her faucet drips

something smells like pine trees

she’s acting different tonight

these shadows make me uncomfortable

the game progresses—

or should I say

it diverges and digresses

“Herb, why did you cheat?” she says

I stutter a stupid “what?” with dread

I roll the dice and deny out of habit

but she sees that my face is turning red

bloody drops on my little blue rabbit

some surreal game is in her head

I get snakes, she’s got the ladders

I’m going down; I made my bed

that faucet drips deception

her eyeglasses have no function

I’d need a map to navigate

the forest of her intention

am I a pawn or a knight

in this Snakes and Ladders sink?

I can’t read her signs tonight

“What’d you put in my drink?”

lights out; game over, right?

I wake in this cold space

Suzy stands over me with leather gauntlets

seeking sympathy through sexy glasses

“I’ll miss our little games, Herbert”

infidelity is a game of chance

you play, you might pay with your life

or, at the least, you lose your pants

me? she got me with a knife

drugged, tortured and shredded

her faith on which I treaded

strapped to this bed frame and barbwired

her faith and I now departed

I’m dead; I’m dead; I’m dead

my wounds float on fire

bars on her windows

and I’m wrapped in barbwire

the warning signs were juxtaposed

hidden by desire

to the bed frame from the sink

9 times 9 is S and L Suzy

what was in that little drink?

I’m feeling kinda woozy

gameboards without borders

Margaret’s clues collide

dirty nights and party slights

is Herbert’s homicide

I died playing a game

didn’t I, Margaret?

the priest gave us a bottle

shhhhh

Kung Fu Girl is the name

but can we thank the Germans

for this secret agent dame?

is this China wine from the Rhine?

or a Riesling plant in Washington State?

Father Norman, what’s your take?

as for me, Control, she’s a fighter

her bouquet chops me in the nose

she goes by Deutsche BundesBahn

to Shanghai in Secret hose

drink ‘er til she’s M.I.A.

covert gulps of C.I.A.

pop a cork in his ass, miss

twist a cap— pow! your dead, sis

ain’t that just a kick in the head- less

black hair on white label dry

is really Spy vs. Spy

or that dead girl from The Ring

and Tokyo Rose will sing; sing; sing

the code is compromised:

Friar Tuck

has all the luck

he’s stuck

here in the barn

so have a sip, nip and nappy

he’s gonzo drunk now, Papi

go and tell your yarn

and don’t be yellow ’cause

it’s black and white, you

the Reds are deep in

the red, white and blue

grapes too

Washington State’s been invaded, man

by distant kin of the late Charlie Chan

and his only number one son

but this is a good dry white, Hun

and you should never judge

a wine

by it’s name and label

snatch this pebble from my hand, Grasshopper

no can do, Master

I gots a buzz

and my heads all fuzz

-y

Kung Fu Girl

got a hold of my throttle

’cause

the priest gave us a bottle

shhhhh

what does Jack know?

Jack knows Jack

what do I know?

I don’t know Jack

I’ve been on a journey

or two

have I been a leader?

a follower mostly and

where has it taken me

to?

I’ve done some things

or three

have I been a planner?

a helper mostly and

where has it gotten me

see?

I’ve climbed a mountain

or ten

have I been the first?

the last mostly and

where did I end up

then?

here—

awake

at the top

and I’m still empty

but I’ll keep climbing

I am the universal being

balance, harmony and

truth?

the natural order of things

inside me— never far

a lighted man in kind

with Zen in hand and mind

“the way that things really are”       (Tib. Cho)

I know

I have realized— and

I always try to dharma my karma

but I still don’t know Jack

Martinique smuggling boat

toss a bottle over the side

your wet lips give you away

you have and have not

Bogie’s wet lip

is a cigarette lisp

Harry’s hooded eyes

are the big sleepy

Bacall’s wet lip

is a whistle kiss

Slim picks a pocket

Steve? “—put your lips together and— blow”

Brennan’s wet lip

is a lick for booze

Eddie thinks he needs a nap

“Ever get stung by a dead bee?”

Hoagy’s wet lip

is a toothpick twig in the corner

Cricket cameo sings

the “Hong Kong Blues”

Dan’s wet lip

is a crooked French accent

but Renard’s beret and menace are

straight Vichy-soi les affaires

Martinique smuggling boat

toss a bottle over the side

your wet lips give you away

you have and have not

snow falls purely

as dead virgin fairies

wet-dry wings

cold carcass-ings

piling up on cold iron whence?

accumulating evidence

of elemental

frozen genocides

that lie clean and quiescent

in iron countrysides— bent

sleeping safe and translucent

muffled icy, cryptic ringing

this silent sylph nation

under white sound insulation

their ethereal code stops singing

the conquered race in hiding

no guardians here revealing

Jack Frost nipped at my nose

on the Feast of Stephen suppose

my third eye is now activated

the ancient alchemy accentuated

I can see them from folklore

mythical but alive and more

let loose upon us legendary

like water on gremlins— very scary

so add the salt, sand and humanity

and open your third eye, like me

the witchcraft cauldron will be bubbling

their thawing resurrection coming

rendering them rabid pranksters

dirty, loud banshee wankers

on crunchy, sexy city streets

they become reborn fornicators

devil elves spinning

spirits of malice sinning

these demons grinning

creating magic havoc

among us fleshy mortals

and our warm mechanicals

of aluminum and plastic

supernatural sprite

green eyes that often bite

don’t follow the will o’ whisp

unless you want the mischief

dry, stale bread in pockets

church bells, ringing lockets

four-leaf clover is the clout

wear your clothing inside out

and cold iron is the poison

to the hobgoblin legion

why does Snow White have black hair?

is that pure and fair?

and her lips wane

like cherries in pain

that sounds dirty

like that prostitute’s

soul-swapping at night

why is her name, Snow?

it should be black and white, right?

the dwarves are duality, as well

seven evil gnomes from hell

with those funny, harmless names

they’ll swap your baby

for a changeling in a high-ho

and then, it’s off to work they go

there are acid amalgams

in frozen rain realms—

the white angels demoted

snow falls pure?

I used to eat snow

I don’t anymore

fairies will break your teeth

cause severe indigestion

and laugh hideously

while they do it—

even the dead virgins