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I wanted to eat up culture like a cookie
but was already filled with potato.

Boils on the forehead don't exist yet--
I remember seeing old women with forehead boils.

Two days ago:

A mad man Navajo told me about war drums
just after I got off the train--
he was heading to the district attorney's office--
it was a Sunday.

"I should've been dead more than twenty times,
but the Navajo have no fear, and all my thinking is in War Drums"

What the fuck you got to pay attention to the advertising
Buffalo soldier waking up at dawn the same shriveled mess
that all we white blindies are thinking doomsday and protocol

His protocol: tell me the Spirit's in me then walk away
like Johnny Cash or an asshole (I prefer the latter, dude)

Potato breath none of these girls will dig you

Now nimble fingers over brain and dry skin dirtying the carpet--

let's go oil changes, Spicer in Poetry, boss yellings and fat stomachs bulging--
new computers on the way, and despondent catalysts to your life--

potluck in two Saturdays no money to make the goulash--

eighteen year old girl in the store today going for Clockwork Orange
good luck it doesn't matter you won't understand the dialect
you're smarter than I was God Bless You and go to grad school

Your father recommends it yet lets you read Palahniuk like a douche--
what a douche the way he lets you do that but I still sold it to you--
yeah don't buy that Cormac McCarthy I just recommended to you
what's he going to do for you anyway probably nothing so nothing gained