what’s it all about alfie?
save me from being trapped in a quasi-paradise where
every dinner costs 200 bucks +the eyes of locals glint
with gringolust
last month i sold my restaurant list to rubes who prayed
at altars of bbq brisket +blue curaçao martinis this year
i am going nowhere fast
so i sit in my frigid city dreaming of emerging from the egg
botticellicurls now shorn +faded to a puddle grey i’m ready
for my close-up ready to be reborn into my final 8
why 8? some bastard at Harvard put the checkout early bug
in my ear he opined that by 75 one has done it all give or take
now it’s time to call Dignitis
that not so secret-society who tell you where the hemlock is hidden
i guess the ultimate carrot is the promise of immortality no? first
they get us to believe in Santa ie., the Reaper in redvelvet
a jovial Jesus makeover but you only get gifts if you are good
ditto the Reaper re: heaven the place where your flushed tadpoles
now swim (you flushed your pets down the toilet dear??)
crossing the Styx is for dybbuks +probably a lot more fun i mean
do you want to spend eternity with do-gooders? in any case those
left behind are clearly more stricken than the new corpse
exquisite rictus serenity to spare
today i strolled Philosopher’s Walk in 25 below the emergency call
site had a sign that said: OUT OF ORDER i guess in the end you
have to save yourself from all of the jovial run of the mill-misery
and i didn’t sell the real restaurant list!
__
..i sent them to ones where they spit in your soup..
Winter 2024 ..my aim was to set the tadpoles free..hands up if u believe me..
songanddancegirl 