Poetry from Peter Streitz

Busting into Wacko’s cage
was child’s play
Buggy’s brat nephew
hacked the security system
And disabled the cameras
But getting the bastard beast
. . . to guzzle . . .
A barrel of banana daiquiri
Through a beer bong
Was a bitch personified
Yet this tête-à-tête
With the mangy primate
Was planned decades ago
The day Buggy got castrated
In a farm accident
But that’s neither here . . .
nor there

Buggy had a bone to pick;
with the chimp’s inscrutability
As to whether or not
Its great grand daddy
Or whatever
—motherfucking gorillas—
Call their ancestry
Actually split from man
In the Garden of Eden
Believing this untrue
Buggy wanted some
. . . straight shootin’
From the massive lump . . .
of drunken muscularity
Humorously wanking Its hard-on
And grunting
With sexual frustration
Too bad, Buggy thought
Pushing the inebriated
To its back
Before lying out straight
. . . flat upon its fetid brawn
As if paddling on furry surfboard
Looking down into Whacko’s
weepy brown eyes
That lolled unfocused
Like the twin barrels
Of a loaded shotgun
So Ape-man. . .
did’ja have the hots for Eve?
Evolution says we’re family
Of the same tree
And the God-fearing insist:
our looks are merely coincidental
But even without
—an Adam’s apple—
Banging man’s first lady
Makes you an alpha male
When suddenly;
like a ground swell
Wacko’s chest heaved
Uplifting Its comic lover
Via an alcoholic breath—
that blew in a different temper
In tune to the soulless stench;
that followed a guttural eruption
While a log of an arm
Crammed a colossal hand
beneath Its massive monkey butt.
Accepting all this,
Buggy took solace in thinking
. . . If I could I would . . .
When a fist, rotten with ape-shit
Hit Buggy flush
Round-housing his ass
Slamming him face first
into the reinforced steel bars
Cracking his skull
As if with a sledgehammer
Leaving only Eve
As his last gasp
                                                                                         Of connection.

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