Truths

­A Tandem For Tumors

As malignance feasts

I matter much less to you

Holding you hostage

 

Evil nuisances

I’ll pick them out with a fork

And redeem your mind

 

Por Hombre o Por Bestia

 These coral grey days brim with mindful neglect

Slap slap slapping of tails and faces and fins but no one seems to mind.

Need to’s and should do’s inflate

And scurry silently up the walls

Flickering futilely

Congregating in the cobwebs

Some days ago I’d have had a fit.

 

Shaken from my origins

Salmon snap at pellets in their steel drums

Now muted and flattened

He said apathy is the first step towards nothingness and Baby,

I’ve got an express ticket there

 

Reclamation isn’t impossible, no

Just stones in your bathing suit, shuffling underwater

Just working up the nerve to slap the paleta man after he grabs your ass

But I’ll get there someday

Por hombre o por bestia.

 

Newness

 spine curling

emaciated, angelic manboy

you grasp for me under sheets

of childlike absolutism

of unconditionality

of “I’m in it with you”

 

Heaviness once took her fat ass

and tried to flatten us

but we poised trebuchets

and played sardines

until she took her girthy business elsewhere

 

we can finally just be.

 

Cease and Desist

 spooning you sentiments

with a cream lacquered ladle

 

burning to squeeze

sugar charred cheeks

tap, tap with the back

of a spoon and a crack

shatters, gives way to

saccharine, tangerine sinew

 

you beg to be bundled

and slipped into my cochlea

so some warm, pink closeness

can coalesce undisturbed

 

the second I oblige you’ll claw your way out

shredding my eardrums

to stand autonomously ashen

for the sands to erode

 

 Store 54

 babydollparts

t00thy shag swag

saunter in your cavern

to collect clouds of jazzy kingdoms for Terre

 

Lo Siento, IThought I Told You IKnew Popcorn Ceilings Were Bad For Balloons.

Way to go, enlightening me after three of my five helium globos have flown to their death.

Flying too high to the sun I suppose

Helios, helium

You don’t get my reference, I don’t really care.

 

But papi, come a little closer and show me how you tie them

Like cherry stems into pretzelitos,

hecho de tu lengua.

I don’t tell you about the trick

That I’ve tried over thousands of Shirley Temples

 

Hop over the counter, come talk to me a bit

Don’t-need-my-help-you-got-it-por-tu cuento- jajaja!

You look like you haven’t seen the sun for months

 

And all I can say is I must be home now

Where Jager and Arizona line convenience store shelves

and my beloved Limon chips exist.

Ashen corpse legs poke from under my skirt

yours look appropriate for a viable, die-able being

 

You know what she’ll love? Take this-

a Coke,  fabricando con cane not that fructose crap,

Tie a glass bottle to iridescent Mylar orbs and poof-

what an apparatus amirite!

 

That’s what you and me are made of mamita

solamente azucar, agua y algunos colores.

 

 

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