THE BUTCHER ON THIRD & VINE

by zygotenmycoffee

Posted to Poetry on 2002-09-28 16:54:00

The butcher on Third & Vine
is a self-proclaimed
neo-nazi skinhead
who slaughters his cattle
with an old rusty blade
then collects their ears
in a mason jar
that is stashed
beneath his bed.
He stands 6’3”
thick neck
broad shoulders
& has 22 tattoos,
each depicting
dead farm animals
in various degrees of decay.

Old Mr. Cohen,
stoop shouldered & skinny,
shuffles into the shop,
painstakingly propelled
by his hickory cane.
He greets the butcher
with a friendly tip of his hat.

“I am the Bovine Van Gogh,”
the butcher brags, smearing blood
stained hands across his apron. “What
can I get for you today, Mr. Cohen?”

Mr. Cohen cracks a nervous
grin & gestures at the hard salami.
“I’ll take a pound of that,” he says.

The butcher wraps & weighs
the meat, pushes it gently
across the counter,
then wedges a toothpick
between his teeth.
“That will be a buck
& a quarter,” he says, gazing lustfully
at the old man’s enormous set of ears.



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