Sunday, December 22, 2013

Operation Kinky Blankets

I don't wanna
know your name
I don't care
I say that over
and over again
I say it
I don't care about your
haircut your pants your ironic
sweatshirt mustache face-plant
your naked flesh revealed
in hope of temporary Nirvana
the flashing hope in your eyes
at least some white flashes
of light inside your eyelids
every once in a while
head tilting back in ecstasy
some black stitches
inside your bottom
lip hanging loose in shock
after such a fall
happening like children
toes curling into myth
off the bed and onto the dirty carpet
I understand your paranoia
but still want you naked
all over my fantasies sweating
writhing like a jerk-off
on the shiny cold hood
of any number of overpriced
hotel rooms the champagne
arriving too late
and all you heard them say was
pain yes pain again
I don't wanna wreck your vision
or upset the apple turnovers
already in session
in league with a whole league
of lonely wolven travelers
John Lennon fans each one to
a man a woman a consenting
adolescence spent wandering
the horny back seats of
America radio light the only
chance of survival the station
signal like your memories of
virginity distant fuzzy and not
quite in line with what's outside
the fogged up windows
flashing lights and the knock of metal
flashlights on glass
I don't care who sees me naked
erect like standing stones
cold with every tooth chattering
red and blue
flashing like a disco
they don't care about our notions
our expectations or our truth
they only know if they feel sympathy
and people like us
make them root
for the bad guys winning
if only while naked
pried like a pearl
from a desperate backseat
wound tight in confusion
shirt balled over my crotch
I don't care I say
hair a deadened tangle
teary eyed and ready
I don't care


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