is even more wonderful since once you told me it makes you horny and I'm in the market for a life experience
partially for the fact that we both love Morissey
partially because this is a send-off on a roof-top
partially for New York picketing cross-river like a gold-leaf chorus line
a city with more Exit signs than memories
instilling it's children with a wholesome insignificance, hiply disaffected
all so temporary, like tattoos and erections
every public works project the internet talks about happening but are less real than ocean maps
but they will approach it as long as its perfectly still
and this is what makes you a legend
and it’s tremendously inspiring
is it’s own form of madness
And how do they stay in business, these cartographers
is it a family thing?
I look at you, sadly, because you will never engender those Vincent feelings that make literature possible to care about
you will never be the white space or the belly button in a "You Are Gorgeous And I'm Coming" or an iamb in a Lunch Poem although you do have feet and are unshaven
and your mother most likely accepts you since you didn't turn out an artist or something
or a dancer
so I'm done wasting energy on you and about that time on the roof near the satellites after we licked the bag like two new celebrities
and return to the ordinary muggings endemic with the gentry
No comments:
Post a Comment