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HOLTZCLAW LISTEN HOLTZCLAW
by Dr. Anson Gew
In 1946 I was eleven years old. Postwar India, where I came of age, was strewn with half-eaten carcasses. I had not yet had my first (conscious) erection. My father and I worked as pig smackers on a huge Victorian-era estate. One day Daddy borrowed an old Victrolla from the British chauffeur, who lived in the Big House with the maids and nurses. Poppa placed a platter on the spinning wheel. I was confused.
"What is it, Poppa? Do you eat it?"
"Naw, man," spat Pappy, as he lit a spliff, "You HEAR it!"
And the hickory-smoked tones of Woody Guthrie came straight for my head. And I heard it, brother. I heard every goddamn NOTE of it. I got my first erection that night. Holtzclaw gave me my second. They're giving me one right now. Listen-- over the faint moan of the dogs-- can you hear my erection?
Can you hear your own?
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