The Other Photos
by S. T. Eleu
with apologies to
Diana Ross and the Supremes
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Depeche Mode
Stop!
in the name of love thy neighbor
put it down
don’t deny your intent
I saw the glint in your eyes
I recognize the lateral move
the right hand reaching for the phone
the left hand’s index finger aimed and at the ready
just itching to call up photos
of your kids
think it over, think it over
Don’t!
do me like that time at band camp
pick up your beer
tell me
about the time you traveled beyond the rim
about the alien who was a blue version
of me
so you combined your genetic material
with another
I’ve seen your partner
I can do the math
I could pick your kids
out of a police lineup
without ever having met them
you better watch
your step
Don’t!
come around here no more Mr. Nice Guy
preserve the peace
and unless
your precious prodigy has been
kidnapped
or sucked into a TV by a
poltergeist
or left home alone in NYC
(especially anywhere near Staten
Island)
or gone missing in Jurassic Park, The Upside Down
or Disneyland
(especially Disneyland)
or sequestered by Chuckie
(NOPE!
sorry Chuckie,
I didn’t mean you
you know I’d never mess with you
forgive me
I meant
to say “sequestered at Chuck E. Cheese”
so we’re good, right?
PHEW!)
or
sequestered at Chuck E. Cheese
by Scorpio
I don’t need to see any
photos of them
stop walking down my street
Leave!
in silence is a golden pond
unless
you plan on showing those other
photos
show me the pic of your kid
who has alien DNA
who has a weaponized prehensile tail
who has done time for SJW time
crimes
who has antlers like that kid on TV
who has golden faerie wings
because I fear
that if the pride-and-joy child
you so
eagerly want me to see
were like any of those others
you would’t have
even considered sharing pics
instead
we’d now be talking
about that
sports team
and how useless lower gravity athletes are
when they play
on the road
I hate being in these situations
that call for diplomatic
relations
oh, you would like to show them to me
so sorry about the tone
great, let’s see them
oh, not here
in your car or, discreetly, at that
Motel 6
down the road
hmmm
what can I say?
I don’t want to play anymore
I don’ t want to play anymore
© 2021 S. T. Eleu
Raised in Vegas then exiled to Chicago, S. T. Eleu has been a
musician, teacher, and consummate Vulcan. Autism is their default
universe, and though sparsely populated, is a glorious place to escape
to, write in, and display an impressive collection of action figures.
Find more by S. T. Eleu in the Author
Index.
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