Franklin Roosevelt’s Withered Right Leg by Steven Storrie

I waited like a monkey for you in the history aisle
Hyped up and crazed and ready to fling my faeces
At any passers-by if you didn’t show up soon.
That was how you got me, in those days
You unscrewed me from my senses
And I had nobody but myself to blame

9.45 and you still aren’t here.
I scan the textbooks like I want to read one
And wonder if the other people lurking around
Are here for the same thing as me
I exchange glances with them
Courtesy with a dash of suspicion
And pray I don’t see anybody
Who recognises or knows me personally

The cleaner thinks I’m a pervert
I can sense it right away when she drifts by
She thinks I’m a sorry sack of shit
And she’s probably right
She’s worked here for 35 years, after all
And has seen them come and go
I yank a book from the shelf for cover
And pretend to be engrossed
I hear her tut as she trudges off
And I turn the book around to see what it says on the front

It’s 10pm and you still aren’t here
I’m reading a book about FDR
And my feet are fucking killing
My mind is racing with what I’m reading
But my prick is getting the feeling
It’s not gonna be his day
He shrinks in disappointment
Wishing you never got his hopes up
You bitch
You heartless fucking tease

He said that
Not me

Apparently FDR developed incredible upper body strength
Due to the loss of his polio crippled legs
Jack Dempsey once praised the President’s strength
And the guy landed a 237lb shark
After a two hour fight
In other words his weakness gave him an unexpected strength

I can relate
Sort of

I close the book and put it back on the shelf
It’s a quarter after ten
You clearly aren’t coming
And I take my withered legs
The fuck away from here
Franklin Roosevelt might have suffered from polio
But at least
he never had to deal

Steven Storrie 3
Steven Storrie has worked as a cable T.V repair man, dishwasher, choreographer, ice cream vendor and junk yard attendant. Tired of this he is currently locked in his basement working on his first full collection of poetry, bickering with his neighbours over nothing and storing the baseballs he keeps when they are hit into his yard. His first collection of short stories, We Are Not The Kids We Used To Be, will be released in November by DevilHouse Press. You can find him at the website he runs, ‘Black Coffee For Breakfast’, at

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