Skip to main content

Punks-The Beginning


Minnie was 14. She liked bright red lipstick and getting high.
Tommy liked getting high, too.
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon. It was the end of the weekend and they were poor. They had walked all around the downtown and had even played teen-aged hide and seek at the public library. Stolen, secret kisses.
Tommy flipped the hair out of his eyes, looking into hers.
"Billy-Boy? Oh, do we have to go there?"
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "If you want to get high."
Tommy sighed, too. "Fine, nothing better than a day spent with..."
"Like I ever actually hang out with him. I will get us out of there quick, silly," Minnie interjected.

Billy-Boy's Mom was fat and stinking when she came to the door in her burnt yellow gown.  The tiny pink flowers enhanced her girth.  She had her brassy orange curls up in a purple hairclip.
She clapped her fat hands together once and smiled her brown grin. She shouted back into the little green house, "Billy, friends for you!"

They settled in beside a grey dumpster at a near-by apartment building. The sun radiate off the blacktop of the parking lot.  Billy-Boy pulled a joint out of his cigarette package.
"You never came back Wednesday night," he looked at Minnie.
She stretched a leg out, watching it as she brought it back up to her body.  She rested her chin on her knee and stuck out her tongue.  "Mom's are bitches."
Tommy looked at her, queerly.  They had been together Wednesday night. 
Smoking pot with Billy-Boy was never fun.  He always left the joint wet.  Minnie smiled, her eyes half-closed when she handed Tommy the joint.  She leaned forward, placing an hand on his upper thigh, letting her fingers slide up closer than she should have.  Her red lips were slightly parted and she looked in his eyes.  She had captured him.
"Billy-Boy has the most amazing comic book collection," she smiled bigger.  She did not even look over when she said, "Tell him, Billy-Boy."
Tommy did not like comic books.  He sighed.  And she just kept smiling.


The Writer said…
Very nice. Liked it greatly. I may be posting something in a day or so. I will let you know, Queenie.
Queenie said…
I will know. I check everyday.

i like it. seems like the beginning of something to me...
phoebe said…
this is fantastic, Q.
AJ said…
Something tells me that Billy-Boy double-dips the chips too...Bastard...

Inanna said…
I really enjoyed this and the previous post... always interested in knowing what is going on with Tommy.
REMwastrel said…
Nice narrative. Interesting story-telling style. Sweet characters. Minnie and Tommy, as if they too belonged in a comic book. Ergo, nice. :)

Popular posts from this blog


When I was in Ottawa, abandoned and enthralled,
breathing in the
heat waves shimmering off the people
and the cats
and that lazy raccoon that I later named Mondrian in my mind
after I saw my first one,
I did not look for you.
Nor in the malls, the halls,
the magazines, in the new towns,
or down the old roads,
on silver screens, between the book shelves, down on my knees
hands in the clover.
I took you for granted.
Oh hey.
There you are.

I know myself
Far, far, far more than I let on
I know what I am doing.

Love is such an easy word.
Besides, it's a given,
We can keep it there, easy, big, broad like the straight black painted lines, it's nice.
Effortless. Quiet. Assured.
So then, I guess that it is not the word.

Punks-Starting to Remember

Minnie is 14. She likes wearing bright red lipstick and getting high.
Right now, Tommy is arguing with her. "Vitto will be waiting for me then."
"He can wait longer," she tells him. "Tell him there was too many cops following you around or something."
"Yeah," Tommy says. "That might work. Vitto would believe that. Three different cops stopped me on the street this week."
"What?" Minnie almost shouted. "Oh, Tommy. They are on to you."
“No, they aren't."
But she knew. "For sure they are. Listen. Meet me outside the pool hall at 9:30. I'll havethe dope then, Tommy."
“No. I really should go see Vitto first.” He kisses her quickly on the forehead and then runs home to make himself some Kraft Dinner for supper.

When he walks in the front door, there is Momma with a bottle of whiskey tucked between her legs, her head rolled to the back of the couch, her mouth open.
"What the fuck, Momma?” Tomm…

Quiet Company

I've been sold, I've been sold, I've been sold, I'm being sold-out
It is torture but
I don't even care
Except to love you more, to love myself more
Those hot-burned tears for you as I rally to save my skin
wind down me and leave behind gold and green
and I don't stop looking
until I look upon you
What on earth...
I've been sold, I've been sold, I've been sold.
I'm being sold-out.

Sunlight filtering through cracks
in the sky
in the walls
fall across your skin
I fingerpaint across your chest
Every word
known to man
and found in you

Fresh snow
Our footprints mark us
You are here!
I am here!
We are here!
Turn your face upwards
Let falling snow rest on your eyelashes
(dream of me)
Let the white melt on your outstretched tongue

It's spring.
Just one word.

I'd sit across the hall
looking upwards until I saw the flicker; light on
Sit with you while your busy hands rolled over these plains, these fields
The stretches of nothing
(Look at…