I'm sorry, the American public
is a bunch of shallow fuckers.
If you make a weird noise or an ugly face
in a terminally stupid new poll
they never let you forget it,
put it in the newspaper
and on television
which they never turn off
even when doing very light work
such as guard duty or cleaning a rifle.
Back in the day,
the American Public was undertaken
as part of a child's basic education
but repeatedly failed to teach Average Joe
how to spell his own name.
It's F-U-G-L-Y, come on.
What will they do when their stomachs
turn irreversibly into pie charts?
Hog another cubicle?
The American Public is a bunch of amateur posers.
And that, friends, is when I knew
the profound love I claimed
was a mere smattering. I am newly
engorged with boner-hard love.
I want to keep all the tastes discrete
so only a little goes on my tongue at a time.
Each nibble a rogue hair, a coarse
language of flavor. How proud we are
of our facial configurations
even if they’re entirely involuntary.
Mind your quiver,
you know? Let imagination
be my leathergoods
including some punk studs
& superfluous buckles.
Because on the carpet,
amid this rattyassed display,
a tugofwar between selfhood &
moment I love you.