Poetry

Johnny Go-Go Boy

When was innocence lost? Is not as important a question as, when will it return?

Poem by J.J. Biasucci - neo.tao9@gmail.com Photo by Icarus Blake Video by Icarus Blake & Raoul Beltrame

Johnny go-go boy from Citizen Brooklyn on Vimeo.

Makes me remember the last time I was happy. I was six years old, I was walking home from kindergarten and, as I recall, I was in a wonderful mood. Mrs. Milazzo, my teacher, gave me two stars for the week for being a good boy and being well mannered. I was so happy. So happy, in fact, that I decided to stop in the local strip club to check out the hot mommies. I felt like I was walking on a cloud when I entered, the bouncer didn’t ID me. I went straight to the bar and sat down. “What’ll it be, buckaroo?” asked the bartender. “I’ll have a John Wayne.” It’s like a Shirley Temple but for boys.

As the bartender put down my drink, the music changed. A song with lyrics that went, ”I walk the line… I walk the line… I walk the line between good and evil” came on the sound system. Just then I felt a presence behind me. The Hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. I spun around in my chair… There she was on stage, Goddess… I got that feeling like, I want ice cream and I want Ice cream now! I searched through my backpack for my saved up allowance. Where was it? In my Crayola box? Noooo. My Hong Kong Phooey coloring book? No! I was starting to panic; it took three months for me to save up that twenty-five dollars… Ah, there it is in my Charlie Brown coloring book. I took a dollar out, creased it long ways, walked over to her and stuck it in her stocking. She winked at me. I knew it was playtime. She came and sat next to me at the bar. I impressed her with the A,E,I,O,U and sometimes Y principle and coloring in the lines aesthetics. She seemed to like me, she asked me if I wanted a lap dance, She took me to the back of the club, it was amazing, she bounced me on her knee for three songs. Pedophile—I was pedo-feeling all over her ass. I was going to take her home but then a thought; I don’t even have hair on my balls yet. Fear started coming over me. I’m prepubescent and hung like a six year old, besides what would my old lady say if I brought home a play friend for dinner without asking permission first. My allowance was almost gone. My stomach sank. I put my hand on her shoulder and I told her, a boy’s gotta do what a boys gotta do and I left.

That was the last day I can remember being happy. The very next morning I woke up at six to watch cartoons, just like usual. I remember my mom walking out her room to the phone in the kitchen. She made a call. I wasn’t listening to her, but I remember clear as a bell when I heard her voice say I think my husband is dead. That was the day Johnny Senior died. When was innocence lost? Is not as important a question as, when will it return?

Photo © Icarus Blake

Photo © Icarus Blake

Photo © Icarus Blake

Photo © Icarus Blake

Photo © Icarus Blake

Photo © Icarus Blake

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