Sunday, July 15, 2012

HUMAN SHIELD


My mouth creatures an Oreo. The struggle of crumbs totally
soaked, to tiptoe out along horned, Predator-style
mandibular cantilevers while meeting my girlfriend's parents
for the very first time. In hindsight, after getting to
know them, I wouldn't have as luckily escaped mummification
in our conga line mid-fisting had I not inherited my grandma's
hydroelectric genitalia. You can see why rain is actually a
waste of water.

I wouldn't want to ever meet my doppelganger: imagine you're
a midget, you've got green skin and pointy ears
and walk with a cane and wear some ratty burlap coat
thing and speak backwards and work at the
movie theaters; imagine yourself meeting motherfucking Yoda, and
imagine you both comparing assholes and being generally freaked out
at the difference.

From the mountain bike's G-forces a nameless, unspeakable
evil turns cartilage sullen, like the way it looks, on
its bike, racing down alleys and hiding amongst trashcans
and as we're shooting at it, me and a bunch of other cops,
it's grabbing for the nearest clump of shit to utilize
as a human shield, and its claws grapple with discarded
lettuce and pick out a little pupa which the clawed evil entity
steals from the pupa's mother's loving embrace, with its claw,
and which it puts on its own back (the evil entity does) to act
as a human shield. Any - rather ductile and destructible –
wad of rubbery biology that can serve as a human shield which
blasted down, and which the more we shoot at it, looks more and
more like a dude on a couch, watching TV, in fact glazed in such
blight from watching TV all day as to actually more resemble a
lost meteorological figure.

I wish the shanty convenience store hadn't been remodeled
into a big, vain robot staring the whole time at
its own reflection in a metal detector, he with the
heart of a hedonistic personal computer,
decoder of typo-strings and fan mail diagrams,
cruncher of things – lathered sometimes into a
numberless froth – but maker of exact folds and creases
in the more well-worded fan letters.

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