of your fur balls.
the smell of sheer camouflage.
tired of dodging missiles from your tiara.

tired of Tobasco crop-dusting my coffee
gulping your porridge tangled with thorns.

you think you’re subtle. but you’re not.
i was dutiful my dear. i read the anthology.

i’m tired

of genuflecting. shopping your Wal-Mart.
chain smoking your gospel down to the butt
yellow digits rank lip-synching your mantra.

the unscabbed are ready to fly from the loo
mow the stalactites
in your subterranean bile.

I can’t suck your Winstons.
I can’t dine with mambas.
Kafka has no place in my re-morphed world.

the bat boy learned to shave.
the water boy lost his ladle.
and your virulent veil shrinks anorexic
beneath your rhinestone crown.


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