By Thad DeVassie
I didn’t know what it meant to stick it to the man back in 1987. I didn’t know who the man was. Statements like that can be ambiguous. But I remember Lyle Lovett, his tall hair, the height of a new capitalism. My hair was as long as his was tall as he sang about things he wished he had and what he’d do with them. It sounded as strange as his tall hair looked by 1988. But now, many years later, and understanding who the man is, now that my hair is long gone, I yearned or the simplicity of a riding pony, perhaps on a boat, my boat, which would have to be a really small boat because I am not that kind of man, making my pony even smaller. I bought that pony, because that was what I could afford. I looked up Lyle and messaged him. I figured he might have a boat by now. He texted back, plainly, kiss my ass. I knew what he meant. I knew it was a kinship, of not sticking it to this man.
Thad DeVassie is a writer and artist/painter from Ohio. You can see where he’s been and what he’s up to next at www.thaddevassie.com