Tuesday, June 27, 2006

manner of doing

I give you disease in black heels
in the following pre-paid manner

first, I spot you at
the supermarket taking
a leak
with my one good squinty eye

second, I shuffle bow-leggedly into
your field of vision

third, I confuse you with my
assymetrical hair and
oven mit

fourth, I whisper filthy truths wetly into
your red left ear

fifth, I permit my mit to brush
your beefy three exposed back hairs
(you emit unconscious peeps)

sixth, I slide my crafty black hook-hand
daintily into
your nethers

seventh, as you stiffly sink to the tiles in
slow inebriated monkey-thought, I
begin to shrink and disappear, as
all sights and sounds shrink and disappear, as
all memory and action and bloated pig-time shrinks
and disappears in a flush of dry water

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