Help This Boy

Help this boy
He has just the one good arm
The other arm is an evil arm
Made out of rats and bats and weasels and sin
And AIDS and car crashes and wasps and broccoli
And burnt waffles and tar and hate and bad fathers
And sand spurs and dog whistles and little pieces of
Popcorn kernels that get stuck in your teeth
Help this boy
for this boy is you
Help this girl
She has just the one evil arm
The other arm is made of wintermint and pumpkin spice
And kosher hotdogs and baby aspirin and the smell of rain
Her dress is made out of hope and praying
And Applewood-smoked bacon
And her hair—well, her hair is
apricot orgasms mixed with a lazer beam background
and a great dance beat
Dance with this girl until she cries.

The Drunk Poet And The Nun

This Time

I used to have a recurring dream
about you
every night
and it was always the same –
we were back together
and happy
and every morning
I would wake up
alone
and my heart would break all over again
but every night
I would convince myself
that this time
this time
this time
it was real
One time my best friend
was there too
and he told me
not to worry
because this time
this time
this time
it wasn’t a dream and
I got him to pinch me
to make sure
Finally!
This time
this time
this time
I was awake
and it was real
But of course it wasn’t
and I woke up
alone
and crying
and now years have passed
and the dreams have stopped
but I have resented my best friend
a little bit
for lying
ever since

scrub

celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain
got his start
as a lowly dishwasher

the job, he claims, taught him
every important life lesson

I concur—

toiling day after day
in this dish pit at 46
has been a superlative education

I’ve learned
some really vital stuff

including
but not limited to

I’m fucked

Diary Entry of a Webcam Girl

Panties draped over my lamp, my bed and laptop.
My clients favor my red corset.
If you have a valid credit card, you can see me in ways
only the bathroom mirror does early in the morning.
They like it when I keep my window open, so many
of them have voyeuristic fantasies.
Sometimes, my neighbors pass by while I work, but
they haven’t even taken a peek.
(At least I hope they haven’t)
I have one neighbor though, who smiles at me when
I leave my apartment. He sweeps his porch even if
it’s clean. I wonder if he’s seen my show?
I know other college girls who work at strip clubs and
must face their client’s erections and hear their cat calls.
I read on a screen what they’re afraid to say to
women in person. They ask me to choke myself,
stick a cellphone into my vagina and tell me
I remind them of their daughter.

The Green Flashlight

I’m not so sure I get
all this hubbub about
a man becoming a woman.

We crave that.
We always have.
Uncle Mildred enters and the crowd goes wild.

Explain what makes
an eyelash “false.”
Consider the streets of Bangkok.

To illustrate my point, last basketball season,
the fellas and I would get together
after each game to try on makeup.

We would take turns wearing my mother’s
Japanese geisha robe in the dark and singing
“Lady Stardust” into the green flashlight.

It was a great way to unwind
after playing so
aggressively.

Some of us still pass around
the green flashlight
as needed.

Some of us glow
green from deep
within.

Can’t Stop

we made blood angels
on the linoleum

usually
when we cut each other
it’s contained

but tonight
we got drunk
and did some other stuff
and one thing
led to another

and now we’re bleeding
all over the place

laughing

crying

aww, it feels so good

“ok we should stop now”
I say

she jokes
“i don’t think I can stop”

I joke back
“haha me either”

she says
“i wasn’t joking”

I say
“what?
you don’t really want to die
do you?”

Investing in the Future

“Small donation to
the beer foundation?”
asked the haggardly
handsome man,
raising his empty
as I passed him
on the street.

I flipped that fella
an entire Euro,

fearing it
might one day
bear returns.