LIZARDS
LIZARDS ARE SURVIVORS CHOP OFF THEIR TAIL AND IT GROWS BACK
giant black dog crouches in the park squinty old eyes show me a zazen
monk is he defecating? bowing? praying? park on brant st. crumbling +
cramped cemetery stones huddled close are they monks kneeling? peeing?
or crawling toward me winter supplicants on giardia-frozen grass bulldog’s
vet said not to sit in city parks so poisonous are they smeared with purebred
fecal decay you will need more than a shower +said bully will vomit on the
Roche Bobois chaise all day
beeline for colette a little slice of paris but with TO attitude greeter says: i am
so happy you are here eyes glaze over fill with naked boredom for everything
poet +her fey poetry while multitudes of gorgeous french breads rot on marble
bar a man who smells not french sandwiches himself between me + the french
sticks he says: listen lady if you have ever believed a depressive wants to be
happy think again they just want to be empty i bludgeon him with a long hard
bread +turn back to the sacrament of happiness in the absence of his ripeness
i think about 10 yr. old morgan doucet who needs $200,000 worth of vimizim in order
to survive until next winter morgan is dying of morquio syndrome now the monks
enter colette with a litter upon which they place me like rimbaud whose leg was
festering they carry me up yonge st. to the dense green ravine of suburban childhood
where the river of babylon flows out to sea no more sturm und drang for me Even
though you cannot see gravity you know it is there right? have no fear city-dweller
you will be so much more fuckable come february
__
Deep Winter 2016
songanddancegirl 