Friday, March 25, 2011

THE TRAVAILS OF RELOCATION

I'm too cheap to
leave any convenience store
without a cigarette burn

sometimes I leave with a torn-out page from
a copy of Alienology's They Have More Than Two
Tits edition: 'The enthusiasm of future aliens to study
underwear stains will wear off faster and faster,
in inverse proportion to the amount of
stained underwear'

I talk to myself mostly when
I'm in here, but you, elevator,
you disgust me

my race: the inevitable
constituent of paint thinner;
the STD cartoonishly curtsying,
and the antibiotics making it do so;

bedroom substrate’s
troll isotope

'OK, so you ready to talk prices?'
the Zulu real estate agent asks me.

Though I still reel from the deep-brain yo yo-ing
of my building's elevator – and the dirty soliloquizing
I was sure was meant to contain something important - I have
successfully forgone any further discourse with the intelligent
ecosystem beneath my carpet.

'Just remember this hut – it is
only a prototype.'

2 comments:

  1. Fantastic. I like troll isotope - only a prototype. They look good, together, those stanzas. Like bookends that aren't identical but clearly a set.

    Also, elevators disgust me. I do not like to touch them. Or banisters. Or barristers, but that's out of principle.

    ReplyDelete
  2. that's a good observation, i wasn't looking at it that way. but you're right. pure accident, but it's nice if someone spots it (i mean the two bookend stanzas). thanks, frankie

    (elevators are fart tombs)

    ReplyDelete

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