11.
Each junky find
one more surprise
another’s handmaiden
behavior
ached lace
in tubs of lye
yards of clothes line
spread thin with petticoats
down pillows and aprons.
To brooklyn and back
or for those
hell believers
born to sad men
with damaged anatomy.
Her titties, what a joke,
foots webbed are gross
would you say so?
Be a freedom fighter, lad,
interesting fool to the glassy masses
in tube-socked get ups
the winter posers in
summer tights
with shady sunnies,
her defense cones
dripping with amendments.
Let us set
loose upon the pigeons
like babies on
a brown rabbit
tumbling hard
against idaho potatos
or something twice as grotesque,
reminiscing about
our fumble foods
carbon bedsit
foodprints in the damn sand.
Give me more
of your tired politics,
another cliche
or a shot of whiskey
where hat dancers circle
some quinceanera girl,
glorious in her milk thistle
dress detail.
It all makes us cry,
you in your cheat-free
cover-up
we in our unconventional assets
hollow to the touch,
blue and brown eyeballs
rolling into one another,
phylum leader
a dog called siesta
cuz the monkeys
are still pooping
in the bathroom.
