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.