by Joe Buonfiglio
Desire, long, yen, hunger, thirst, ache, crave … YEARN. What is this uncontrollable wanting that has churned up within my soul these days? I grow increasingly dissatisfied with the status quo.
“Why yes, large-breasted young female in the extraordinarily tight company T-shirt working her way through college at this sleazy chain sports bar-restaurant being verbally groped by this horde of uncouth middle-aged white guys compensating for their exceptionally small penises and/or erectile dysfunction; I will. I WILL abandon my usual cheap domestic beer and Buffalo-sauce drenched pile of fried poultry appendages and try the delightful German pilsner with the dry-rub wings today. Thank you for suggesting it.”
Yes, I yearn. I YEARN.
I yearn for the day when people no longer have to identify themselves by the color of their skin or their sexual orientation or the like. Oh, of course, they can if they want to do so; but it is not something they MUST do in order to show solidarity as a consequence of insane injustices perpetrated against them by an intolerant society.
I’m not a white person, a black person, a brown person, a gay person, a straight person … I’m just a person. Wouldn’t that be nice for a change? Judge me for my character and my deeds, not for how I look or with whom I sexually partner. I’ll always side with Hollywood’s proverbial “prostitute with a heart of gold” over the asshole who goes to church every Sunday morning and beats his wife every Sunday night.
I yearn for the day when religious freedom does not mean exclusion of or harm to others. Because let’s face it, the way so many in the religious community act these days, either God does not exist or He needs to wake the fuck up.
I yearn for a day when the wants of the rich and the powerful do not outweigh the needs of everybody else.
I yearn for the day when this diarrhea is not a part of my life. Yes, I contracted some unholy manifestation of the trots while on a business trip. And yes, this little bit of poetic prose you now review and scrutinize was entirely composed whilst upon the porcelain throne. Although, if I’m honest, that’s where I do most of my writing on a “normal” intestinal day anyway, so you shouldn’t notice much difference.
Now at this point, if you haven’t dropped you smart-reader device to the ground upon where it shattered in a manner totally voiding the warranty and absolutely justifying the curses you’re associating with my name, please read on … or don’t.
The thought just dawned on me that you might not have any such yearnings within you. You might be utterly satisfied with the direction your life is taking, the direction the world is taking. To you, I may be just one more lone madman yelling in the woods. In your state of complete contentment, you may simply view me as a mumbling, drooling, self-identified guru sitting upon the mountaintop wondering if anyone will be coming along soon to shush away this annoying goat that keeps nibbling at my stash of kine bud, or at least can assist in the removal of this soiled adult diaper in which I’ve unceremoniously spent the last few days.
And … you know … maybe you’re right.
Why is it my job to seek redemption for all of Humanity? Fuck Humanity. What did Humanity ever do for me? What have any of you ever done for me?
Yearning? Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Okay honey, I’ll have my usual order of endless Buffalo wings and a PBR. No, too hipster. Just make that a Bud. I’ll throw an extra Hamilton into your tip if you flash your tits for me and my buddies here. No? Then get the fuck out of the way. NASCAR is running on all twenty big-screens and I can’t see the track through your hellacious rack.
Hey, do you know what I really yearn for? A huge piss, that’s what. Order me another cold one. I’ll be right back.
“Fuck! Did they crash?! I missed the goddamn wreck!”
And we can’t have that, can we Humanity? After all, that’s the whole idea.
© 2015 Joseph P. Buonfiglio All Rights Reserved.