out on the branch

I was feeling shitty
stayed in bed and
drank wine, ale,
smoked and popped
pills
watched tv
smelled my toes
farted
intimidated ants.

I got very clever and
intellectual and
cool.   I became a
double-spy
then I turned into
a triple-spy.
I rammed a seaplane
into an iceberg.
I watched while a
priest from Madison
murdered his brother
from Pasadena.
blondes with diamonds
for asses
walked in and out of
airports
eating creampuffs and
walnuts.   I
turned into a
quadruple-spy.
beetles ran in and out
of my nose.
I sat poking matches
beneath my fingernails
and lighting them
under the bridge
in the bluebird
night.

then I got up and
felt better
much much better.

the bed sometimes holds
more truths than Marx.
othertimes,
less.

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