Crystal

Crystal

Here she comes in patent leather thigh-highs, a snappy little
Sixteen. She pops bubble gum, wears a rainbow tam,
And just delivered her first child into the world. He’s a
Dandy little whipper-snapper, all bouncy and fresh.

She’s been on the job three years now, sometimes a little
Strung out, but always ready to give up some ass in
Trade for the high life. Her high life got a little lower
When her pimp showed up, already peeved about lost time.

You see, a girl is not supposed to hide her pregnancy. No,
She is supposed to get rid of it. Well Crystal’s a prankster
So she decided, being a little chunky anyway, to enjoy the
Bloodless months. But, when she started getting too sick to

Handle the trade, Tyrone got more and more mad. She
Endured beatings, went cold turkey for lack of cash, and
Got all the thrills of childbirth without any of the normal
Conveniences of hospital, midwife, or even companion.

Well this fine spring day in New York just sucked for
Crystal, because Tyrone, in one of his coked-up moods
Yanked the young child, two days old and still unnamed,
Away from Crystal, and standing on a bridge over the East

River, threw the child in. You’d think this would be an
Uncommon event for the child of a corporate princess, but
It was just an early instance of a girl, ignored or abandoned
At home, who struck out for the streets and suffered.

Twenty eight years later Crystal is about to die. She endured
Stabbings at the Port Authority, 10 years of Heroin, 15 years
Of Alcohol, and a life without children, steady mate or even
The love of a parent. How is she now? Well, she’s got this

Liver thingy-dingy. Been straight for over 20 years, and all
That she gets for her trouble is interfuron, vomit and crumbling
Bones. Did she ever accomplish anything on this earth? Well,
There’s the Holocaust Memorial at Monroe Community College,

The love of friends she met along the way. The hundreds, nay
Thousands of addicts she took under her wing. Now, just now,
When she could use the daily calls from Dad, or the hugs from
The old man, he’s off to Pritikin to heal himself. See, he couldn’t

Really handle all that his kids became. It was too much for him
Or any man to bear. But it wasn’t too much for Mom, heck no,
She’s been the type of trooper written up by Ibsen or Woolf,
Half deranged at times from the stress of doing it all alone.

Mom is only Crystal’s step mom, but sure enough, she even
Tried to save Crystal’s life too. Not much you can do from
300 miles away, but she tried. It was Dad’s attention Crystal
Was always trying to get, and the more times she hit him up

For $50 here and $50 there, the more times he must have gone
Home and had a drink about the whole mess she was in. There’s
No blame in any of this, as dysfunctional was not a word in the 60s,
But families, especially those of the hard working, hard drinking

Corporate kings, were crumbling just the same. It was the beginning
Of the end for the American family. Now, some 40 years later, so
Completely ignorant of their children as to be the shame of the world.
Leave it to the Gatess to help lead the way, as we have in many fields.

There is no moral to this convoluted story. Instead, what we have
Is a youth-laden prison population, men as an endangered gender,
Women, once so tender, now on mega power trips, and TV, yesiree a
Regular shitload of media to smooth it all over for us. Fuck this!

Take any standard suburban neighborhood and there you will find,
Smoldering behind closed doors, the seeds of a type of revolution
Even our forefathers never could have imagined. It is violent,
Sad, ADHD, unexpected, and entirely out of control. It is on us now.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2002. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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