The Troll
This poem was one of my firsts, it just flowed out and has become a fun poem to read around the campfire.
What's Real? (aka The Troll)
The troll by the side of the road was wearing khaki.
Like he just stepped out of Banana Republic.
What kind of a place is that?
“Banana Republic”
Some place where they grow bananas
and bananas are on their coat of arms?
Anyway, this troll was wearing khaki pants
and a polo shirt
and a nice Panama hat which did not come from the Republic of Bananas.
The Republic of Bananas.
That’s the place’s real name.
Those bastards who opened up the mall stores made it all simple
getting rid of the “of” and flipping the words around
and putting up pictures
and fake potted plants
and boring, plain colors
‘till you don’t know what’s real or not,
but it seems real.
So, troll, side of the road.
He looked cool, but you could tell underneath
he didn’t have a clue what he was doing
or where he was.
I mean Los Angeles,
rush hour
and a troll.
It doesn’t all go together.
We’re talking movie stars, moving cars
and “Grauman’s Chinese Theater!”
I don’t get that.
Do they have theaters in China?
And who thought to put a pagoda on a movie theater?
I guess when you’re got like a million movie theaters in town,
You gotta do something to stand out.
Grauman’s Russian Theater? Naa.
Grauman’s British Theater? Naa.
Chinese, yeah, Chinese makes sense.
So the troll was no where near Grauman’s Chinese Theater.
Why would he be?
He doesn’t even know who Jerry Brown is,
but he does like a nice latte every once in a while.
So maybe it was the latte connection why this
khaki panted, Panama hated, polo shirted,
movie agnostic troll was just standing there
at the side of the road
during rush hour
in the city of the Angeles.
What was his next move?
Like in chess.
Do you think ahead like 10 or 14 moves?
Like that guy who played against the computer
and got his name in a book
or in Time magazine
or something?
Or do you fly by the seat of your pants?
Hanging on,
bare knuckled,
dreading when it’s your next move?
How do those people think ahead?
Are they always planning?
Are they always ready for whatever the hell comes their way?
Why would you run those many scenarios?
I mean you can’t anticipate everything.
You can’t figure it all out.
You can’t put every freaking thing in a box.
You’re sitting there
spinning in your head.
What if she says “yes”?
What if she says “no”?
What if the light turns green before the Tan Toyota Tercel rolls through the intersection?
You’ve got your whole life all figured out and then Bam!
A freaking troll is standing there, all Khaki-like
and you’ve never run this scenario.
And I don’t mean one of these rubber, purple haired, goofy smiled, partially naked trolls from your childhood.
But a troll in a Panama hat.
Now what?
You just blew the last half hour of your life planning your next 10 to 14 moves,
sitting on your ass,
controlling everything
and controlling nothing
and now….
There’s a troll.
I suppose you could ignore the troll,
Yeah, that would work.
Just use the scenarios you’ve got worked out.
Walk away.
Forget the worried look in the troll’s eye.
Let someone else deal with the troll.
A freaking troll...
Get real!
This is L.A.!
So I’m thinking...
The troll had a piece of gold to give away.
That photographer from Time magazine
was going to take your picture
as you accepted the gold from the troll.
The troll would then exhale a sigh of relief
and disappear back to wherever he came from,
right after he picked up a nice latte.
- Jose Enciso
What's Real? (aka The Troll)
The troll by the side of the road was wearing khaki.
Like he just stepped out of Banana Republic.
What kind of a place is that?
“Banana Republic”
Some place where they grow bananas
and bananas are on their coat of arms?
Anyway, this troll was wearing khaki pants
and a polo shirt
and a nice Panama hat which did not come from the Republic of Bananas.
The Republic of Bananas.
That’s the place’s real name.
Those bastards who opened up the mall stores made it all simple
getting rid of the “of” and flipping the words around
and putting up pictures
and fake potted plants
and boring, plain colors
‘till you don’t know what’s real or not,
but it seems real.
So, troll, side of the road.
He looked cool, but you could tell underneath
he didn’t have a clue what he was doing
or where he was.
I mean Los Angeles,
rush hour
and a troll.
It doesn’t all go together.
We’re talking movie stars, moving cars
and “Grauman’s Chinese Theater!”
I don’t get that.
Do they have theaters in China?
And who thought to put a pagoda on a movie theater?
I guess when you’re got like a million movie theaters in town,
You gotta do something to stand out.
Grauman’s Russian Theater? Naa.
Grauman’s British Theater? Naa.
Chinese, yeah, Chinese makes sense.
So the troll was no where near Grauman’s Chinese Theater.
Why would he be?
He doesn’t even know who Jerry Brown is,
but he does like a nice latte every once in a while.
So maybe it was the latte connection why this
khaki panted, Panama hated, polo shirted,
movie agnostic troll was just standing there
at the side of the road
during rush hour
in the city of the Angeles.
What was his next move?
Like in chess.
Do you think ahead like 10 or 14 moves?
Like that guy who played against the computer
and got his name in a book
or in Time magazine
or something?
Or do you fly by the seat of your pants?
Hanging on,
bare knuckled,
dreading when it’s your next move?
How do those people think ahead?
Are they always planning?
Are they always ready for whatever the hell comes their way?
Why would you run those many scenarios?
I mean you can’t anticipate everything.
You can’t figure it all out.
You can’t put every freaking thing in a box.
You’re sitting there
spinning in your head.
What if she says “yes”?
What if she says “no”?
What if the light turns green before the Tan Toyota Tercel rolls through the intersection?
You’ve got your whole life all figured out and then Bam!
A freaking troll is standing there, all Khaki-like
and you’ve never run this scenario.
And I don’t mean one of these rubber, purple haired, goofy smiled, partially naked trolls from your childhood.
But a troll in a Panama hat.
Now what?
You just blew the last half hour of your life planning your next 10 to 14 moves,
sitting on your ass,
controlling everything
and controlling nothing
and now….
There’s a troll.
I suppose you could ignore the troll,
Yeah, that would work.
Just use the scenarios you’ve got worked out.
Walk away.
Forget the worried look in the troll’s eye.
Let someone else deal with the troll.
A freaking troll...
Get real!
This is L.A.!
So I’m thinking...
The troll had a piece of gold to give away.
That photographer from Time magazine
was going to take your picture
as you accepted the gold from the troll.
The troll would then exhale a sigh of relief
and disappear back to wherever he came from,
right after he picked up a nice latte.
- Jose Enciso