Beavers live in Florida too?
Michael Jost
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fiogf49gjkf0d The newborn stiffens at the sound of the siren.
In his facial contortions, I too, see the nightmare
of birth controlling. Even as infants we struggle
We struggle against our memories of the past.
Only to succumb later as men to routine.
The mountains now surrounded
Our current lowered state of being
"We're in a valley". The leader spoke out
"Make a fire men to keep the wolves at bay
And back in the trees where they belong.
That way, we will secure the integrity
Of our yellowing underbellies."
It was always like this, so near to the sun
Wasting away, and breathing helium.
I know how flammable I can get
Coated over by the stink of sweat
I wish to be something other than Mercury.
How about the mirror and its blinding feedback?
My extension cord has turned way too umbilical in nature
What's the danger in wanting the barmaid to take me home?
She's so platinum blonde plus her Levis could pass for having
been painted on with a bit of Van Gogh's insanity.
My glass perspires leaving circles to stain
The already-too-stained counter-top
One more shot followed by a dark stout beer
Should set me free, and off into the dark garbage -
- choked ally. Did I even park in the ally?
Or did I stroll here from the bus stop out front
Hmmm... Perhaps that's a subject better left to
discuss over tomorrow's cheese-soaked omelet.
My sugar headache rules the coop
Like the pigeon God, I'm preened
To mate forever with eager
beta females Second best has me
centered with None other than otters
unable to float on their backs,
and muskless muskrats.
The hands of Indians
have traded our pelts
Thirsting for fire-water
To white men who need
to re-insulate their
worn snowshoes.
We all come to this corner pub
To remember what it's like to forget
To pull out crisp bills from last year's
routinely given birthday present
The dull black leather billfold
We then crumple up our change
To be deposited firmly into the proper
pockets of our choosing.
My friends are all here buying drinks
by the tray full for my enemies, who eyeball me
with discontent, and ill repute.
They have this fact duct-taped to
their bald deformed heads.
You can feel the love here in this room
It has been blended well and unnoticed
Into the magic plum sauce, I too, am camouflaged
By steel and industrial smoke somewhere
drunk in Cleveland.
I love to steal the coasters and ashtrays
On my way out I tip the bouncer with monopoly money
And remind him of the fact that his girlfriend's on my jock
We always end up fighting out back by dumpsters
Last weekend, I bit off his earlobe
Then Fed-Ex it back to him the next day
In a small ring-box with dry ice.
It took me thirty seconds to realize
That both of my socks were soaking wet
And the record-setting wind-chill factor
Was all the Weatherman cared to dwell upon
He seemed to be gloating from the midst of a
ten-minute make-up session prior to airtime
Accompanied by that ultra-white dentist-recommended
Ivory-stamped smiles. Chemically whitened to the point
of blinding shrapnel-like intensity.
I knew that I was definitely in the thick of disaster
Battery-operated socks only work if you've taken
the time to purchase batteries.
Back to the leaves, I feel a deal this real
Can only be heard by the deaf
When mutant songbirds
Sit wired between leaning telephone poles
And indifferent sunbathing reptiles
I know this swamp as the always damp rumored tumor.
Brain sized and walnut detailed
I too golf dizzily behind my grandmother
And her bridge-club girlfriends
My martini is well enough poised
Properly positioned in the grip
Of my well-manicured hand
Complete with clear nail polish from Neimen Marcus
Obliviously drunk, and well programmed
I join the herd for dinner.
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