Two Fingers Neat
I am about to crack open a bottle of Knob Creek
and do you know how much that put me back
even at the Duty Free Shop in Buffalo? I am
taking a page out of the Book of the Dead
and hoping nobody finds it missing. One
day A.I. will translate it for me and I will
be that guy. That guy who keeps looking
for his identity. Did you happen to see one
floating around the foyer or hanging
near the latrines? Regard him, this man
with thinned eyes, and make no sudden moves.
If all is true, then too bad for you should he
take a fancy to your perfume or your
footwear. Even frontline German soldiers
during World War II knew the difference
between English chocolate and their own.
Or look at this bone in my wrist that I broke
many years ago, before the invention
of plaster casts and self-love hand lamps.
When I said all we needed was a lubricant,
I meant something sweeter than K-Y Jelly.
The cannons won’t boom without you
standing behind them and doing that thing
those dudes setting off those things do.
War never appealed to me, but now I
must eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner,
I say eat well, my friends, eat your fill
for tomorrow may never be the tomorrow
promised to you and me, as I swim
from the neck of Lake Erie to its jewels.
Horror Sleaze Trash 