Originally posted 9/21/2010.
I’ve met someone who spends his weekends liberally applying bacon grease to his arms and drawing swirls in it.
Wipes them off, draws them again.
He’s a map of bacon labyrinths.
Calls himself the Pig Tattoo King. Says these are the maps to his domain.
He leaves stains on everything. He stinks a bit.
I’ve also met people who swill money like chocolate, coat themselves in dirty metals pulled from the ground, smell like rare flowers crippled with salt, build small honesty into huge lies to keep people guessing and off balance.
They leave stains on everything.
I place my faith in the Pig Tattoo King. I honor his Kingdom of Making Do. And I prefer the perfume of that place.