Tuesday, April 27, 2010

A BIRTHDAY SESTINA FOR SARAH CUNNINGHAM

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARAH, PLEASE PULL THAT CAT AWAY FROM YOUR FACE

i would like for you to please pull that cat away from your face
and put it back where it came from. you don’t want to go to hell
do you? you gave it some thought, you said you’d bring a camera
to take pictures of your favorite circle of it. where dogs vomit
uncontrollably on liars, or whatever. sarah, have you seen the pain olympics?
i mean, don’t watch it. instead, have yourself a game of quidditch

with some kind of special twist. microscopic quidditch,
or no, don’t do that. i don’t know, maybe do something with face
paint. what i’d do is i’d sit around and talk about the special olympics,
maybe make bets, but you probably wouldn’t do that. hell
if i know what you’d do. maybe you’d just vomit
all over the room until it was covered in vomit. i’d camera

man the whole thing, of course, because my face is a camera!
do you think they have a special olympics version of quidditch?
happy birthday, sarah — did you happen to vomit
while we were at AWP? the look on your face
said you could tell that one day we will surely hang out in hell
and we’ll sit around (dog vomit everywhere) watching the olympics

drag on — i’ve never won a gold medal. but i did drown in an olympic
sized pool. wilco was playing in the house, the song that goes “i need a camera
to my eye.” after i drowned, i knew i would have a hell
of a time swimming again, or crying. drowning is like playing quidditch
covered in thousands of wet blankets, and some water demon is trying to fuck your face
you try and you try to breathe, but you just vomit

no, that’s not entirely true. i was actually unable to vomit
because i was dead. i mean, i’m not fucking michael phelps, olympic
gold medalist. after i drowned i realized i had to face
everything that is between things, things we missed with our camera
when we were distracted. when you’re dead, there is no quidditch
pitch to fly around in on your broom. there’s just a hell

of a lot of angry wind. i mean, when you’re dead, you’re hella
wispy and pissed. you go around trying to vomit
on the living while they fly around playing quidditch
you try to piss on NBC’s dumb coverage of the olympics
especially that guy over there, with his camera
all up in the noisy part of usain bolt’s face

i guess i’m saying learn quidditch and start believing in hell;
that’s what we’re faced with. an eternity of vomiting
nothingness on cameramen at the olympics.

2 comments:

rodney k said...

This is awesump.

Bryan Coffelt said...

thanks! stay tuned, there is a big surprise coming tomorrow.