it was unlocked.
I suppose it was asking for it, right
forgive me, his words, not mine,
but,
did you “fuck” her?
yes, but I saved them
so much on car insurance
by leaving the window intact.
a pair of mockingbirds dive on a
gray stray hauling
substantial testicular heft,
one of their own in his mouth.
his, the unbroken stride of
a former senator going in for a handshake
with BB King during the Clinton Administration.
outraged at this senseless routine
they bang their beaks on kitty’s rib cage
over and over again
I curse relative comfort
upon the cardboard that protects my skin but sucks for fucking.
survey the land underneath the bridge
offer my wrists
to the patrolman in exchange for help locating his mind.
he declines and proposes,
without walls,
I don’t exist
So. order of business #1
since time is either what I’m doing wrong
or not doing enough of, I propose
Gods,
judge me not as a God.
who could even pass this test:
Stand up if you’ve never touched an uncircumsized penis.
Stay seated if not. If so,
Turn 7 degrees until your left is east if you’ve ever “tongued” anything:
envelope, Jello Pudding Pop, et al.
slap your knee until standing still if you give and receive in wrong ratios.
from the squatting position, slow trot
and sheepshank your neighbor’s chukka
if and only if you’ve never, ever,
stuck your finger up your own ass.
Now turn again
say amen.
time’s up,
you’re done.
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