Dollar Dollar Bill
One more Jacobean kiss
and you’ll wind up related to me.
One more emotion
and I’m coming for you, like a sparrow.
Set your phenomenology
on the windowsill.
Filthy, meet Family. Family,
I want to get marketable again.
In the mean time, what are your thoughts
on a completely male garden?
As little closure, maybe, as there is
a permanence? This being, also, the time
of the wandering Miss Americas.
Loose thumb-bones, rattling
in a mint tin. One more emotion
and both Dakotas will explode.
One more condition
and I’ll be exiting my relevance.
And what was it, finally,
so dead about him, Family?
I think I just saw a fox.
Yes, with its little foxen teeth,
like Ezekiel’s. Of course, you were off busy,
revising your plague journals.
Bringing clock to the belt-line
of Orion. What could’ve you done
about the remaining days
no longer outnumbering us?
Voice of the dying groupie
like a deck of cards being shuffled.
One last electromagnetic pulse,
one last electromagnetic pulse,
and the neutral bodies of the dead
dropping from our larger, living bodies.
The truth? I thought the castration threat
a touch on the heavy side of the tonality.
But you got your point across.
And by then, we were a much
cleaner people, anyway.