A drink on an empty stomach
The summer morning plaid fog made me drink again
Sulphur stink on the nail buds of the shrubs,
like they scratched their crotches in their sweaty sleep,
stray dog fleas on their yellowing greens
The cement road was chewed out by the rubber enamels of tires,
tires after tires, after exhaust cigar puffing cars,
chafing the thighs of the sidewalks.
The deodorant premature menstruating clouds
against the aches of the liver of the sun,
puffed past by my window, like fuzzy, crystalizing vape smoke
My tongue, all parched and eyes dreary as a dog’s browns
on the acne of scooters, cars, all over the bony spined back
of street corners
whose armpits blinked left corner traffic lights and
tiffin shacks painted in cracker cement and refried oil,
like soiled dinner napkins in a bowl of ceramic leftovers.
The car’s lemon perfume,
the yeast and the fermenting grain corner in the pulses alley of the grocery store, naphthalene,
made me sneeze
for wines in pubic cork bottles in sweaty stuffy underwear cabinets
full of mini bar bottle dwarf wine babies but with the hourglass of an imperative women,
like a cartoon underwear rabbit toothed,
chip toothed vape pen in a skirt pocket
secret impulsiveness
I drank as I spoke to my bedroom wall
I drank as the wardrobe sprouted eyes in it’s Indian wood
I drank as the bedsheet blinked back at me through it’s ethnic, fun house, jumbo slide, swirling eyes
I drank, I drank, I huffed, I blew my own breath onto the mirror and sprayed some pink lily ten dollar drug store utility body fragrance powder to have eaten my fill of warped scenery and forgetting, like a whole mythology had been sitting in the oils of the vape
Yes, I want to drink again, yes I never should’ve, yes I didn’t drink for a year cause I wanted children, yes I want children
working on drafting negotiations with body digestive world order, yes I know, yes I think, yes I understand, yes I drank, as the yellowed leaf shrivelled underneath my black shoes, like plastic barrel fried Kentucky chicken skin.
