Friday, October 24, 2014

Last Rites

they bog you down with paperwork
which looks more like words on a screen
until inside there is a scream
a shredding interior and they say please do it
and you do because there is no way out of it
the forever tunnel of smiles and gestures and scowls
until you bend over in a bow that wasn't planned
you grab your ankles and kiss your ass goodbye
as it is said by so many pulp novel characters
their mouths turned sideways and spilling teeth
Hurricane had to have sex with Travolta to save me
from a beating from pulling the prince nez from a balding head
It is autumn again and the cold is refreshing on the nerves
dreams pop up instantaneously and woven women cry over tall balconies
not a real balcony but woven one at an rate
Hear what they say. It is all made up. Their words are rags
thrown off back alley trucks that careen
we are all a little shaken up. It is time to leave this life
someone will perform last rites on the poor animal
it is not your fault, you just lived here for awhile

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