Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Come Out, Baby, And Cut My 3-Billion Sensors In Half

I’m a lobster looking for a lobster willing to die
with a water pistol in each claw, cold water

peeing up into the cook’s face and melting it off.
What I can’t eat what others grow big on, sleepy, tough

except when soft, i.e. engaged in nostalgic things
as in nostalgic boxing. Claws and red turbo engine

cross-cuts super villainy. It’s a bit like cheating
naked acceleration through the zoo

zoo bares all then ambushed oh no – I’m still
willing to die but it’s not very nice, nervous like

an echo in a bison’s horn. Super villainy is
the only thing that keeps me from loving you

to the full. Who can really love in death?
In water sprinklers that killed Alien

in the end? ‘Hit the sprinklers, Ripley!’
Super villainy takes croquette shots in

yo-yo 360-degree around-the-world-style
swings, pummels off those lobsters it can’t reach,

funny that life’s travails which you’re supposed
to measure on a futuristic calculator

still imbue these pastimes, weird game indeed, womb lock
sleep clock, display your elevation oh difficult situation,

yes difficult situation: bat those cancer spots down
from hanging branches I say to the world I work for

I work for you appearing every morning at my desk
in riot gear ready to die. I wish every mouth

has handles, shake those cheeks baby
talk my language. Say: ‘Where can I find the thing

I love?’ My lobster girlfriend? The one with the beady eyes
on stalks, the one with the black carapace the one … oh

who am I kidding, she looks just like me
except every OTHER bum reminds me of latex

wedding cake each mouth here ruins the joke.
The periodic table on the wall is a good idea

for someone (I think it’ll be me) will turn it
all into wax and derive immense power from it

unlock all the animals, beautify acceleration in
reversed underwear. Antennae with gout

are fucking magical yes you can sense it too:
How they trash talk TV vets, menace the world’s

hanging stars with retinal lasers
hissing to our water pistols!

One day in the dark I’ll see her crouching there
in the steel corner. ‘Don’t look at me like that like!’

Ambushed before I’ve even begun my successful tramp
through life semi-willing to die, at which point

I’ll say to her, ‘Me too! Also semi! Come on out!’
and together we’ll be completely willing

at least so my calculations say, my calculator,
each of my three billion wriggling sensors

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