Parkinson’s runs in my family;
my father, my maternal grandmother;
odds are pretty good i’ll end up
in a similar fate;

it doesn’t keep me up at night;
the thought of Parkinson’s;
i am pretty sure i don’t have it yet,
except when i try to read poetry
in front of real people;

then i shake and stammer;
leaves in a breeze;
standing naked on a frozen pond;
people stare and gawk at
the rickety, stammering fool;

until i tell them;
i have Parkinson’s;
then they quiet, look away,
applaud for something
they don’t really understand;
an actual lie;

i did the same thing in High School;
said i had Parkinson’s; except
the only person that understood what
Parkinson’s meant was my family, and me,
and my maternal grandmother;

fate was bound to fuck me; and it
finally has, but I’ll get by; now i don’t
read in front of real people so i don’t
have to fake the lie;

probably best, anyway; i have a face
for radio & a voice for silent movies;

JCK HNRY is a neo-modernist, post-apocalyptic writer, living in the hard scrub of a californian desert.  recent publications include:  Deuce Coupe, Rye Whiskey Review, Razur Cuts, Cajun Mutt, Dissident Voices, Horror Sleaze Trash, Bold Monkey, Red Fez, dope fiend daily and a bunch of other noble zines and journals.  Chapbooks/Books: “Snow in Summer and the Playground is Closed,” “Empty Houses-Kendra Steiner Editions,” “the Downtown Cafe (Erbacce Press),” “With the Patience of Monuments (neoPoesis) ,” “Crunked, (Epic Rites)” and “the Righthand Curve of a Continuous Circle. (Blunt Trauma Press).”  hnry is also editor and publisher of "Heroin Love Songs, V2.0, 7thEd"