one for R.O.

I give you the fancy to
push and shove   out
over me–
dangle me as a
clown card
or as a tic-tac
of 89%
courage.

I not only paid
my friggin’ dues
I invented them
and doubled the
price.

I’ve triggered-off
the clit of your
mind
with Humphrey Bogart
treats,
and some desperate
laughter against
the chopping
windmills
(chopping, slicing,
beating, icing).

but I am not nearly
the monument I pretend
to be
and I really shouldn’t
blow it all
away (your 12 million
dollar man)
but

my gloves are in
the drawer
and my fingernails
are dirty

and most nights and
days I hang
sideways or
upsidedown

looking for your
face

and all the way from
Connecticut
to San Diego
from Miami Beach
to Anchorage

periods become
ends of sentences

and the nudey bars
are empty.

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