“bernstein, What Good Are You? ” Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

Caught off guard by the question
especially the tone of Treasure’s voice
sad, bitter, aggressive.
“And I’m tired of your talk.”
Staring now, watching me,
waiting
I didn’t like the waiting
so whispered, “What’s this about? ”
“Fucking children.”
“Me?
I never in my life.”
“Your kind.”
Suddenly Larry Plunkett plopped down
at our table in Meng’s saying,
“Need that dollar
in your pocket, Bernstein? ”
I dipped in and handed him
two singles
then he quickly played
a tune on his Kazoo.
“Without this little darling
I’d be a dead man, ” he said.
“You’re good at that, Bernstein, ” said Treasure,
“tidbits to the lost.”
“He’s does his best, ” said Larry,
“I’ll vouch for that, indeed
last week I seen him in
Brighton Beach coming
outta a health food store
which just so happened
was next to Starbucks, and don’t you
know, the man spent $4.75 on a coffee
for me, then handed me his copy of
the Times, and sat myself down, after saying thanks
and hobnobbed with the rich and famous
for a good six hours.
raining it was, so happy to be
indoors and warm. Thus,
to conclude, Bernstein is a righteous
dude.”
“The New York Fucking Times…”
At that Larry began laughing
couldn’t stop, flopped to the floor,
looked up at Treasure saying, “You got a way with words.”
“Where I found out about children
forced into prostitution.
In the article I read twenty-six men
entered a twelve year old girl
day after day, until she said, “No.”
Beat her. Still, No,
finally drugged her senseless
then the fucking,
like fucking a corpse
cocksuckers didn’t care.”
“Bastards, ” said Larry,
“This happen over in Brighton Beach?
cause there’s perverts walking them streets.”
“Pakistan, ” said Treasure.
“Oh, ” said Larry
lowering his eyes
then asking, “And where might that be?
cause I failed Geography three times
in sixth grade, and, well, never did make it to high school.”
“Tell him, Bernstein.”
“Far away, ” I mumbled.
“Here, ” Treasure said
her fist
plunging into her heart.