The Last Intern On Earth

posthumanity, the bugs are ruling
everything in slow-motion
with their water-filled
(fulfilled) baby’s brain

free power flowing
backwards because everything
is still dying: the last intern at the
last hospital seeks to
conceal the last
case of gonorrhea with thumbscrews

sort of in a classroom but the windows
are different

like hysterical blood

or
else the t-shirt holding intestines      
looks different, and is not
see-through

the man who really built the
mechanical crocodile is
guilty, sick

and I’m awful – yeah,
I’m awful
unmarried and
awful

mothering
the crocodile
making friends
with that awesome phone
directory

that thing really rocks

friends’ names centipeding up
and down through-
out! so have you seen it?

with a clever twist in
and guiding humanity back into
its chickenpox suit, hoot! – in/on
the living room-
wigiboard-like
rug
 
ejected
cake face, the last intern on earth
threw
the party
I suppose in what all came
down to a friendship with
deadly cobalt in the wrong
haunted house

hooting dream-slashing
ejects cake, the hooting broadcasting
in a sort of banner ad:
Lobster Charity!
(pick the one who can stare the longest without laughing
into your eyes
through the tank’s glaucus wall.
He/she is the bravest, will
take the boiling water like a man)

you’re a centipede
living in the cobalt citizen’s intestine
but you’re furious – ten
to one at what the porn star/activist/blogger
wrote about the
leggy etiquette you employ

upping your blood-pressure
in the end probably with this gem:
‘When rolled up, from
fear – its to-die-for little legs tucked in – it looks
like a charred earth.’

ten to one
the porn star became
a blogger after first being
a porn star