‘$5 on pump 3’, ‘Window Watching’, ‘Bosworth’s Jacket’ & ‘I Keep Cutting Myself on J.K. Simmons’ Bald Head’

Peyton Fultz is a self-taught acrylic painter hailing from the DC area.

$5 on pump 3

He says he’s from Only, Tennessee

but he’s got Colorado plates.

And he asks around for a brown haired girl

in every shopping mall this side of that way.

Well, he’s forgotten what water sounds like 

since his tap broke 

and he doesn’t pay his bills.

But the Pinkerton’s can’t find him 

since his name washed away in that flood.

“Glacial,” he says

he went to Princeton

when he broke down off State Route 65.

And he’s always offering directions

but nobody’s ever seen him in town before.

He says he’s from Only, Tennessee

but he’s got Colorado plates.

And all he’ll ever buy is Folger’s Instant Coffee

and the shirt off your back.

Window Watching

It’s one of those nights 

where there’s yellow light

shining right before the rain.

So the man hauling the cross along the boulevard

is cursing out Barabbas.

until his throat drips.

I’ve heard there’s bedlam in the cabaret

And that salvation’s just a day away.

That any glimmers in the clouds aren’t stars.

He can’t help it.

Claims to know a place 

where everything gets fixed.

Is this all that waits for me?

Is this all there is for me

in this yellow end of days?

Bosworth’s Jacket

The water did a real number

on that old calf-leather.

That old calf-leather that saw

ribbon roads.

Desert swept,

sand-torn roads

cracked like old calf-leather,

like a New Mexican’s skin.

That kind of leather.

It belonged to somebody’s father named Bosworth.

I don’t know about any Bosworth

‘cept for their taste in calf-leather road jackets

and their habit of stitching their name in the lining.

And it’s gotta be sixty-odd years old at least,

so any Bosworth’s gonna be dead by now.

But his kids oughta be dead too

‘cause this old calf-leather’s an heirloom, man.

Now it’s sittin’ in a puddle.

No Bosworth son is gonna let that stand.

I’m no Bosworth son.

I’m just wearin’ his jacket.

Least I can do.

I keep cutting myself on J.K. Simmons’ bald head

I keep cutting myself on J.K. Simmons’ bald head

because there's razor blades between those 

sphynx cat wrinkles of his

and I’ll tell you why I am bleeding all over his perfect yellow drum kit

when I haven't apologized yet for having so much blood

is because I want J. K. Simmons to hate me like he knows what love is

because then I would know what it is to be perfect

because you know how much I want that

that being perfect and one of the greats is worth having so much blood

for J. K. Simmons to hate at and 

I want you to know that this is good for me

because when I tell you that jazz is all about being perfect please believe me

because I need you to 

because what else have I been doing if it isn’t all jazz this way

I want you to watch J. K. Simmons be perfect at jazz with me because he’ll hate you too and

you’ll bleed all over his perfect yellow drum kit with me and 

just imagine being perfect like that

just imagine being perfect like that

can you imagine being perfect like that

when no amount of blood could ever make anyone hate you and

it's only love when you die

because that's what blood is

love

Daniel Martinelli