Lobster Boy
Third of the Chavez triplets,
Manuel, the aging wolf boy
Straightened his shamrock tie
Behind an ancient podium.
(Grady Stiles Jr., better known as Lobster boy,
had murdered his daughters' fiancés and gambled
late into the night with turbaned sword swallowers.)
The media gathered,
Sore and unkempy,
Like crushed sand dollars,
On a popular beach.
(Lobster Boy was notoriously alcoholic
and had sung the national anthem at many
baseball games.)
What could possibly supplant
The meditative stance
Which greeted countless cotton candy patrons,
His mutated limbs raised upwards,
Saluting Poseidon.
(Three sons and two wives had cut him from throat to thigh,
under the somber anonymity of a sleeping trailer park.)
Endlessly harassed about the source
Of beloved Lobster Boy's corruption,
Manuel finally raised his finger,
As if balancing a trained bird,
Ready to speak.
"What type of world is this, that expects humility of freaks?"
With this proclamation,
Wolf Boy ran out from the podium.
And was only noticeable as pantless,
Through the truancy of his affliction,
Upon his brown buttocks.
Amidst the ensuing chaos,
A goat voiced man
With an iguana tale,
Began to screech into the microphone.
An old body builder,
Half drunk in 1930's swimwear
Puts a nail through his nostril,
Feeling closer than ever before
To pinpointing his tragedy.