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  Listen to the Poet Read  |
The host climbs out, soaked and spitting oaths, and a teenage girl leaves the barbecue. Two of those drinks your wife mixed, bright pink and cheerful, and I'm seeing double: breasts, twin headaches exactly the same size await me frowning from each temple, and a diptych concusses the chatter: a car salesman hitting his better half. A pygmy politics emerges wherever two or more of you are gathered, shopping together. All right, stop biting, I'd much rather sleep with you than with that other poltergeist. You're greedy, aren't you? O Painted Laugh, why is your belly convulsing? Can "a man" become a sign for "a muscular spasm"? Horoscope, betray yourself, take me back to a feast, if this is a feast, these glib flirtations, the whole gang badly knocked out by the mundane speech the flame attempts, each sleep a cancelled cheque, as I watch myself thinking of you, deracinated Sweetheart, boarding a Grayhound. |
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