Thursday, October 13, 2016

CAMPFIRE

Oh limbic xmas tree oh limbic xmas tree.
I burned to a crisp between your branches.
Now I'm blue twinkling lights.
Now I'm the bargain bin angel glowing on top.
Now I'm...fuck xmas.
It's Halloween.
I'm wearing Lisa Frank sprinkled donut pajamas
pretending like I've never licked an ice cream cone
and my name is Kitty Cat
but you can call me Benign Laughing Golden Retriever.
I'm all soft slurp.
I possess no sharp edges or malignant surprises.
The moon is in Aries or Scorpio and I'm sitting
pretty bland dumb obedient
before the roaring campfire
marshmallows dripping from my fingers.
Toby is telling us about the time his uncle died
and an owl hooted the "Twin Peaks" theme
outside his bathroom window.
Corey is strumming his Goodwill guitar.
Chelsea is flashing her tits, dousing herself
with gasoline.
Sam seems intrigued as he sips from his
bottle of Maker's Mark.
Tomorrow the spirit quest continues,
should take us at least as far as the Valero
on Vance Jackson.
They still sell lottery tickets and Slim Jim there.

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