Chupacabra Disco: November 2024

Fill the house with light. Open the blinds.
Fuck xmas. But yes. Put up the xmas tree two weeks
before thanksgiving. We have the best. No one else
on the planet has Gene Simmons, a Budweiser bottle,
a taco, a spaceship, a sprinkled donut and various owls
on the same fuck ass tree. We have a washer and dryer.
We have alkaline water. We have books and records and
a pink electric guitar and art we created our goddamn selves.
We have the Chewbaca action figure my dad bought for me
at the five and dime in Bridgeport, Texas in 1981.
We will survive anything.
Candles. BIC lighters. White sage. Incense every color
of the rainbow. Cinnamon. Rosemary. Basil. Pink salt.
The keyboard I got for $40 at the website that owns the galaxy.
Hurrah, motherfuckers.
Plastic skulls.
I'll be ashes soon enough but today I am alive and glowing
as I slurp my chicken and stars and toast the gods of surprise
with a green smoothie.
My knees are gone.
I sleep a lot.
I dream a lot.
The worst that could be done to me has been done to me.
I lost my son.
Fuck you.
I got him back.
My son is seventeen years old and still asks me
to tell him Cougar and Sally stories
as he falls asleep.
I won.
I'm here and will be here forever.
Forever might be Tuesday.
Like Donnie Darko I am laughing
as it all
falls down.