What does it mean, Dear?
The thing is we should
just pop a pill and go
to bed like right now.
I feel your presents,
know you in the al-
ready, but I’ll be
buried in Arkansas
just to belabor your
glorious point? By
and large. And grin
and bear it. Striding
your cock-certain wall-
eyed grandeur or not.
You’ve thrown block-
parties to taunt lesser
prognostications. Egg-
shells! I wanna write
poetry and my brain is
gone but you don’t
see me limiting my
self to one dead body.
Go ahead and tell me
that’s not your aiming.
My uncle’s carbuncle’s
a better sell than that
(and you’ve got the
pudding now that
you’ve friended him).
You excel in creepy
chic. I say own it
big and bonafide.
Own anything hot-
dog enough and
it swaggers with
savoir-faire. I’d
buy it a dollar
on the dime, too,
if I weren’t so damn
busy over here trying to
make my own breaks.
