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.