Let’s make a career map
and hope to have a niche in the world
like a slender cactus shadow.
At least I understand letters
but I only write bad poetry
maybe you’ll sing with me,
take me out of loneliness to
the far side of the bitter apple,
taste of cider and sex
where at least I have one price
–although not too dear–
you’ll see I’m just like a cold cod fillet
empty eyes flopping
running out of air and purpose.
I try to run but only fuck
with a stick in my mouth
and my nose hanging
where’s a woman’s heart?
Which direction do you face
when the conductor kicks you to your knees
and you know your job is lost forever
we are the wanderers who fall from favor
to the music of jeers
