______
______
______
This downward spiral motherfucker
cakewalk dance in stains left by some-
body’s other hands – the faint mention
of money stripped off like skin
and stuck in a pocket.
______
The doctors all say there’s nothing
to worry about.
______
Yet – still – I worry:
______
I worry about penis size,
like a lonely pretzel,
still frozen in the freezer.
_____
I doggy your bitch-face, paddle-style,
where I slap your jacket straight
against your face and you smile
this hot hole into your fist like
an evening gone wrong,
or sour, or somewhere Southern.
_____
Like a bread farmer still standing
while his wife makes hands of
worry and he slaps his dick out of
his son’s mouth
and calls him a chicken.
_____
_____
_____
