Experiments in Autobiographical Blow-off, #4 or;
by allen mahan
Saturday, November 30, 2002
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for Shep the Eggpen
“Where comes ya?” is the secret
Masonic handshake . . . some “secret”;
“Know what I’m sayin, cuz? Know what
I’m sayin?!?” Originally, I came from
the better brother of twin tadpoles.
Then, back when Bram Lincoln
was a lawyer, I came from a Mason
jar half-filled with shine ("‘pends on
if yer drinkin or pourin'"), on a Saturday
night, live, in Belton, Kentucky.
Even before that I came from the
Princess of the Universe.
But before there were princesses,
and mermaids, and Barbie's
filled with chemical holds
I came from dust, and mold
and Celtic gold.. . .
a pH mixed with a base mixed with
an egg creme . . . the collected pilings
from Stanley Kubrink’s
editing room floor.
I came from about five-inches under
your front lawn, that’s all.
I came from two, sweet, sun-ripened professionals.. . .
from all the aluminum cans donated
on the Allman Brother’s 1966
North America tour.
Have I ever told you the scare betwixt
the Tigress and the Golden Bear?
I certainly didn’t come from here, I can
assure you of that, as fact.
I come from Lithium, Californium,
and a variety of other inhalants
on the Periodic Table.
I come from the face that looked like
my face before my parents’ were born.
I also come from Lhasa, Tibet; but
that was like another life, intirely.
Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t come, at all . . .
I come from strong stock (wait! . . .
no, that’s where Keith
Richards' comes from) . . .
I come from everywhere, man—but
haven’t been there . . . Yet.