Going to the Motor Base


Six empty cartridge shells
drop out
as lifter presses extractor
raising it from its seat in the cylinder

resting on a dead man’s
collects the empties
for resale value

Can’t be a man,
if you can’t afford to eat,
his mother drilled home,
daily ’till her death

And Rillian to his fellows

“I’ll head out there at sunset;
If any of you weasel-necked
spud-eaters wants,
you can come along”

Rustling of dead leaves against
the rocky ground

a dried-out prune of a man,
named Middle,
“If I throw in with you,
what’s in it for me?”

“Let’s see, my good uncle,”
comes Rillian’s reply,
“What’d you get last mission?”

“Seems I remember,
you had
two hands
prior, and
one hand

On a sudden chilling breeze,
a collective groan
fills Rillian’s pause

Pressing on,
“You managed to kill
twelve men,
snag a working gold
pocket watch,
so be better today
than you were

At this,
the entire crew
squeals juvenile
haunted with coming

all rolling around
dry leaves, and
kicking boot heels

Even Rillian,
captured in clatter,
jigs violently on
the dead man’s
chest, and
jingles his empty shell

business boiling up
rallies hard

His “Yellow Boy” repeating
Winchester rifle barking
a history of weaponry
in one sharp word,
echoing for eternity

Their war song
sings out:

“We’re going to the
Motor Base,

We’re gonna kill
some folks,

We’re going to the
Motor Base, and

after everyone’s all
bloody and dead,

We’re gonna take us
their stuff and gold

We’re gonna dance
on their corpses

until there’s nothing left
until there’s nothing left

Oh, we’re going to the
Motor Base, and

We’re getting it on!”


18 thoughts on “Going to the Motor Base

  1. More please. I know u’ve sent, but here to be seen. u r ahead of yr times Sir Edgar, but don’t listen to flatterers like me who maybe want to drag u their way, keep working out there lonesome this voice is yrs alone.


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