Charles Chaim Wax


Mr. Winnie Strolled Into Meng's - Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

sat at our table
then spread out his goods
but I was shocked to see him as
the temperature now hovered near zero.
Sophy Suling heaved her corpulent body into a sad sigh, “Got no money.”
I immediately said, “Pick one
my treat.”
Sophy stared lovingly at the images
of men sporting long pricks
standing at attention
then said, “This one.”
“Mr Harvey, ” said Mr. Winnie,
“a wise choice.”
I plunked down a five.
A moment later Davidson Kip showed up
the left side of his skull
permanently bald
after doctors stuck a steel plate
in his head to keep
his brains in one place
but the deep neurons were never the same
and horrid visions stormed the soul
preventing sleep
and resulting in remarkable behavior
which shifted with the seasons
the cold being especially hard to bear
as the steel often froze
constricting tissue mass
causing terrible pain
of body and soul
yet being alone in his tiny room—
unbearable.
Kip said, “You’re going to Hell, Sophy,
looking at trash.”
Mr. Winnie packed up quickly
and left, as Kip had once
tried to devour, literally,
a naked photograph of Marilyn Monroe,
this during a heat wave in August
cannibal time for Kip.
But in December a different story
perhaps the Virgin birth
giving him ideas
that only a pure heart
could leave torment forever.
“I got a right to masturbate, ” Sophy replied.
“Someone will come along, ” I said.
“He ain’t yet...in real life
but in my dreams
he takes me to sunny beaches
in Florida or Hawaii and we make love.”
Then she lifted the picture of Mr. Harvey
and held it up saying, “I like pictures of men with long weenies.”
“God bless Mr. Harvey, ” said Irving Cohen,
“but my fella been sleeping three years
ever since my dear wife passed away.”
Sophy tenderly stroked the smooth
glossy surface of the photograph
saying, “It’s big.”
“Yes, ” said Irving,
“but I seen bigger. John Boyden
hadda strap his to his right leg,
else it flopped around too much
and the Germans woulda heard
when we was on patrol.”
“How do you know the size of Mr. Harvey? ” asked Kip.
but before Irving could answer he had another question,
“Are you a cock sucker? ”
“Putz, shut up, ” said Irving,
“the German’s blew his head off,
and a good part of his chest with mortars.
After the fire fight the Captain sent a detail
to identify the bodies
but some of ‘em was just parts of bodies.
I thought it was Boyden
but couldn’t be certain
so I pulled down his pants to be sure.”
Kip gently caressed the left side of his skull
closed his eyes, smiled, then
without warning wailed,
“YOU TOOK IT UP THE ASS. YOU TOOK IT UP THE ASS...”
“You wanna see an ass
I’ll show you an ass, ” said Irving standing then dropping his pants and bending over
finally to thrust his thin blotchy buttocks toward Kip, wiggling
as best as a 74 year old man could.
Sophy pinched his left cheek,
then grabbed his long sagging testicles.
“Oy vay, ” said Irving. “That feels good.”
“It does? ” said Sophy, surprised and delighted.
“Now turn around so I can see your
Mr. Harvey.”
And when he did Sophy gently
slapped the dangling item saying,
“Wake up, Mr. Harvey,
the war’s over.”
“Oy vay, ” said Irving, “Mr. Harvey’s alive.”
“Alive! ” said Sophy
the long sought dream now near
while Davidson Kip
banged his steel skull
on the table
waiting for mercy.


Comments about Mr. Winnie Strolled Into Meng's by Charles Chaim Wax

  • (12/29/2005 5:37:00 PM)


    Re Adam Reynolds' comments: or a film script? I want to learn more about the lives of Treasure, Sophy, Bernstein, Jenks, German, Desire, Tallulah and whoever 'I' refers to in your work. And I'd like to see that Mengs place. So how about it? (Report) Reply

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  • (12/28/2005 10:03:00 AM)


    I agree with Adam. Each of your poems seem to be left with a to be continued... (Report) Reply

  • (12/28/2005 8:51:00 AM)


    i simply do not know how you are writing poems like these at the moment charles. i mentioned last week you should think about short stories, although i'll revise that suggestion now to a novel. all these poems merge and overlap and are as i mentioned a couple days ago, of the same essential story. your poems are chock-crammed with unforgettable and surreal characters. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 28, 2005



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