Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The Apartment on Metal Stilts, Near Some Rocks

You're jumping from a 58-foot waterfall naked,
your penis flapping in the wind,
the wind probably quite thankful for the interference

I'm drinking a bucket of blue housepaint
in order to make myself more interesting
I should be drinking rice milk
from a silver bucket instead
but the blue paint really makes me feel strong

I'm not writing this for the people of the future
they bore me already
I'm writing it for you and for
the idiot looking over my shoulder

there are thirty or so robots in the street
bending knives into almost harmless U-shapes
with their silver hands on silver and their arms squeaking
I've decided to go out into the street and spray grease on their joints
I haven't decided yet whether or not to ask them to attack you
with their moderate weapons

I'm going to make love to the mud of the river bed
and feel like a tiger
if you won't swim toward me
you've leaped enough times already
and the cold water isn't doing anything nice for your anatomy
if you won't buy me a bottle of pink champagne before midnight
I'm going to become your boss by accident and fire you
from a job that you'll never even have

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