Trained Silence
Friday,
October 21, 2011
11:21 PM
There’s tension at
your buttons,
account of your gut
busting
barricaded by you
cape code
navy blue blazer
chromium wristwatch
rusting
wife is less life
lived more hiring the maid
to do the dusting
son is portly
resenting his fat father
and burgeoning on
the young age
of emoting selfish
lusting.
—Can you tell that
I’ve been traveling?
Bus drivers
faltering
at rest stops
couldn’t say
enjoying,
but partaking
in the free burger
king
of greyhound glory
benefits of the
benediction
that the parking lot
is easy to pull in to.
He cuts the line to
the bathroom first,
then affirms the
free meal
“I drove all of
these listless scamps
and parked them in
front of
your putrid fat
purgatory
and here they are
souls clamoring in
line
because it’s the
only
stimulation
available.”
I’m no snob, I’d eat
a whopper,
but I wouldn’t queue
for it.
You are a limbless
arthropod
defecating in the
fecal culture that you cling to,
don’t my words ring
true?
I sing,
but you can’t frost
a cake.
Let us saunter
roll along following
the boulevard
cantankerous old
fellow ascertains we’re avant garde
I didn’t consent to
hear his obscenities
cursing codger ought
to hollow out his bile jar in private
maybe he doesn’t
want to acidate his pancreas alone
afraid he’ll pass
out with the cattle iron burning brands into
his calf skin.
Friendly fellow
points me in my direction for a five spot.
I need to get home,
I’m homeless you know.
I smack the
greenback into his palm
frog skin his mitt
and my pace exceeds
my position
I’m there before I
know it.
to all that
cogniscence wasted in transition
you were better off
not existing till the moment
that you made it
here again.