temple to temple
sex marks the spot
it’s just four small letters,
a microwave and a dog basket
shy from (real) love
there’s a mile-wide, shrill divide
the snag to post-marital bliss
in pretending we’re here (sometimes) and
pretending we don’t exist
so let’s bitch and eat crisps
and nourish this flaccid guilt
together, for the kids
I don’t even get to say
That I swing both ways,
Because she won’t even look at me.
But this is par for the course,
Head off at ninety,
Peeling labels off sauce,
Amassing salt,
I’ve seen it all before.
What was it she said?
Transparent? One-sided?
A pushover? Unhinged?
As critique, it’s technically weak,
As I have two sides, at least
And four hinges, at the time of press,
And some kinder souls might allow that,
A glass heart ne’er did harm
To fair wench, lest a gentleman hold me ajar,
With his limbs outstretched
And wait and wait but remain unchecked.
And also, i might add, if I may,
This coat’s fresh on today.
No exit, no fires, no names in lights,
Royal timber, hewn from evergreen block,
From chainsaw blade and sopping twine,
To brassy pushplates and a fat waiter’s behind
That is my jamb, my friends, that is my jamb.
And who goes on a date with a door?
Maybe this isn’t a date, more a fixture.
No, wait, this is a date.
I’m a fixture.
copywriter required
six cents a word
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for fresh young online pub
kicking out jams on
pool halls and tar pits
lyme disease and squash
penny whistles and two-bed lofts
caramel phagocytes and silkworm thought
turmeric-colored sweater vests and ambient chalk
the magnetic hills and first-look tomtom pranks
old-school broken necks and winter’s breathy chuckle
the fifteen percent of people who think in french
when they make fuck with their partners
in south-southeastern ontario
six cents a word
six cents a word
six cents a word
a curt delinquent glide
eyelids slide from side to side
hang; over builder’s yards
suburban sprawl, no sound
for a mouse is a mouse, after all
burst!
and swing
from silken thread
at once,
low-cost and locust
at twice,
not found or lost
a third,
dutifully read
not placed
on a wrist
but saved
surreptitiously
for the hangman’s head
i hope you don’t walk over
everyone like this
not everybody’s concrete
or heavy sand
there are some whose feet are made of clay
inscribed with feathers
they fly unsure
too close to the ground
listing, to and fro
without sound
and you know who they are
i hope you don’t walk over
everybody like this
in your dollar store sneakers
and capitalist genes
evolved, like no other
to symbolise fear
and the shock of the nude
a fornication of ideals
and the stillborn bloodshot hump
of a blistered nation
given up and over
in it’s salad years
i hope you don’t walk over
everyone like this
make of this what you will
the template of whore
you know tearing off
thin strips of ripped skin
is not massage anymore
not in anyone’s book
but it’s a catwalk snap
trapped nerves and singularities
winking at paparazzi and working it
back to me every time
with your size fives
walk/don’t walk – green light/red light/wait
online, wasting time, blind
drunk footfall on my spine
I hope you don’t walk over
everyone like this
porn stars and pilots
malevolent land gulls and girls
who smell like parma violets
dead mouse
that roadhouse feel
behind bars or planchas
disproportionately gummy
inky tarantulas
freshly pressed blondes
sharp nose and sourdough
an unforgivable scene
deep ellum grove
it sounds like a blue note
tender control
fleet geeks and herberts
little jack’s corner
coca cola and sherbet
floor her and fawn her
oh, why can’t we just have sex?
you like me and i like you
so why can’t we just do it?
yes, right here in this bus stop
ok, well, maybe not here
but somewhere close by
in the very near future
why can’t that happen?
i don’t understand
no, i don’t want to talk any more
and coffee gives me gas
dinner? don’t push it, love
i just want to have it off with you
you know, in the old fashioned way
naked, just the two of us
no talking, only porking
a date? oh for fuck’s sake
the moment’s going, love
why can’t we just bang?
instead of holding hands
and me trying to make you laugh
and saying anything
literally, anything
to get your clothes off
things along the lines of
“yes, my favourite colour’s teal” and
“no, i want to take my time, too…”
do i shit!
all i want to do is hump you senseless
on the futon back at my flat
it would be great
we could do loooooads of jiggy jig
and then eat jaffa cakes
and watch Match of the Day
what do you say?
what do you mean you’ve got to go?
your bus is here?
the number eight?
brilliant, that’s near where i’m staying
we could bonk on the bus
if you’re running late
or on the steps of your house
if you really can’t wait
hey, don’t look at me like that
like i’m some dirty perv
only after one thing
what a nerve! As if!
is that what you think of me?
we’ve only just met
and all I can think of
is parting your legs?
that is pretty astute, to be fair
so, yeah…
is this going anywhere?
i didn’t think so
you made it quite clear
when you called the police
when i sniffed your hair
though, it’s not all bad
the cop shop’s right next to my gaff
i can walk home from there
if i see it in the reader
i don’t think i need to
read the full feature
so i “like” it and run
and just keep scrollin down
searching for the gravatars
of the three or four out there
who i actually care about
sometimes, i forget
and lose my timing
panicking and liking
that 8,000 worder
on the history of albanian goat herders
that they only put up 8 seconds ago
so it must seem most unlikely
to them, at the other end
that i’ve read the lot
and digested it and considered the fate
and health of albania’s late great agricultural wealth
in fact, it might appear
that i’ve only read the first ten words
and then swerved off course
consumed by my vice
of pressing “that” button
that’s the real life social equivalent
of calling something “nice”
the average boy or girl
has a vocabulary of
seventy five thousand words –
if that’s right
how come my son
can’t form a sentence without using “like”
at least once or twice
and he can’t seem to limit
his use of “innit?”
no matter how hard he tries –
and if I hear him say “bruv” one more time
to anyone other
than his actual brother
I’m gonna go nuts – I’ve had words with his mom
she seems to think it’s a fad, a phase
that he’s going through and that
all of a sudden he going to start
spouting off verse like wordsworth or coleridge
and riffing on tolstoy with his head in the fridge
i’m not as optimistic as my spouse
because i’ve heard the crud that drops from his mouth
when in the company of friends
when it’s all “rad, yeah, totally” and “d’you know what i mean?”
Well, i’d know what you meant if you enunciated better
and didn’t confuse me by forming every sentence
with a question mark at the end(?)
i know that language is alive
therefore, it must evolve
a new word is invented every ninety seconds
or so i’m told
it’s just that at school, i had grammar class
and yes, it was dry and uninspiring
all gerunds and subjunctives, naming words
passato prossimo and reflexive verbs
but most of it went in
and now i’m glad that i know where to place
apostrophes’ (joke) “and” parentheses
and it’s with this wisdom
that i can commit the greatest parental
cardinal joy, that of projecting my childhood misery
onto that of my favorite boy
blackfacegeneral 