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Harry Truman And The Atomic Bomb

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No skin.  No bones or light.  Blood made to dust by dried flesh heat.  There is no joy in Mudville.  There is no life in America because there is no life in Japan.  Mighty Casey has struck out.

     DROP THAT A BOMB ON THE JAPS, said our great leader Harry Truman from Missouri selling bow ties and pulling his fucking cock off in back room thinking someday he'd be President & wearing funny banana shirts and running country with 13 goddamn cliches!

     The Atomic Bomb leave a big mushroom cloud that's how you tell it's been dropped.  Plain and simple.  One hundred thousand beautiful Oriental people were separated from their P's and Q's! that morning as Harry Truman the tie salesman smoked a cigar in routine contentment; dealt out straight flushes to his shirt sleeved cronies.  People left their foreheads in gardens and whole suits of Japanese skin hung on lotus branch.  Harry Truman the tie salesman went to icebox for bottle of cold ale.  He coughed up some feces.   His daughter picked scabs off her face staring blankly at mirror and insane wife cut paper dolls from ancient White House documents.

     "Nagasaki Hiroshima baby don't look at me like that.  It wasn't me.  I can't help it if you can never have kids.  You look good in plastic surgery.  (He draws a joker) l'm sorry it's changed your life.  But the human being can get used to anything, remember that."

     Yeah, Yeah, Yeah! Harry's cronies all clap and punch Harry in the shoulder.  Harry draws an ace.


      There is a mushroom cloud.  There is a cloud of mushrooms.  The children are on their knees in pine forest and there are beautiful mushrooms.  Look, look, they have halos.  There are beautiful mushrooms on the ground to be picked.

Bill Hutton's History of America was published by The Coach House Press, Toronto/Detroit. Copyright ©1968 by Bill Hutton.