Saturday, August 25, 2007

la la la la far be it from me

what to do when you take your best friend's ex-girlfriend on a date and your best friend throws bees into your car:

number one: you assure her that she is beautiful and that this is in no way a reflection of her inconsistencies.

then you try to ignore the bees while you sit nasty and try to make sense while sitting in your own mess.

she is clawing at your feeble efforts and trying to remember the consistent noise outside her window.

map vs. madrone: you can't see yourself in the trees. you are in a bitch of a place and you can't suppose you're a good man.

reduce your friend's errancy to a joke. say it's a silly prank.

try to suck the poison out of her stings.

if she refuses, then pardon you. for you tried.


***


i'd rather be me than al pacino

because no one probably ever takes his kisses seriously
because i am a direct descendent of my direct descendents
because i realize the figures of modern poetry are more important to me than natalie portman in a bad flannel.
because you can find just about anyone hiding under a random frida kahlo.
because your delivery truck heisted my livery.
because my non-existent sudanese friends support my cardiac arrestery.
because my hype machine loves my moustache.
because many irrefutable lovers have died in fiery crashes.
because maybe i fake a poem once in a while.
because you are my boss and i am loyal to all bosses.
because your cinderella is not my evil
because your cinderella is not my step sister
because your mighty morphin pseudo lebanese neo-con is running for senate.
because maybe this is a hold up and you won't know it until the end.
because my saturday was ape shit like a bollywood disaster.
because my seniority was in question on the day of the evacuation.
because local kids can never skate as good as pro ass kids.
because you dumb ass bitches find out way too late.
because narc cops and their fellatio suppose my diction is supposedly less important than a love affair.
because my sloppy joe naps in jon voight's patents rake in what i owe in rush limbaugh coffee money.
because i am sad in a station wagon in a mass tarantino.

1 comment:

Alex said...

drunk = super cool poem making sexy era.