Tuesday, February 21, 2006
the girl behind the counter
is sixteen, barely contained
in a bikini-top and "dolphin" shorts
folks start singing "God Bless America"
"are you wearing macrame?"
"it'll change your life"
they introduce me to their "housecat"
which the kids call "Maggie May"
I clean it out and carve
a "terrifying" face on it
deja vu of all moments of male massacre
that most ancient part of all thought
that judges all things strange
God, I sound like Robert Stack
stuck his latex-covered toe up my ass