I.
“the white man points to things
that aren’t there anymore”
You castaway spike
in the bell curved
cast of thousands
skylines, you orphaned
mongrel guest motels
vacancy ripening
into red and green
plastic monopoly
game boys, Yo animal
man, Yo animal woman
getting a leg up
on the freeze pop
all over each other
for a two faced garage
and frankenstein dogs
on gold chokers, for
the greater goodies
walking the plank
at the sound of the bell
for undisclosed hyperglycemias
to fuel the fire foreclosure
and the white washed graves
in the Big Easy of the head
and casino royale
with oysters Rockefeller in bed bugs
the hell out of the lounge
lizards patent pending leather
ox blood with the mop up
in the hands of migrants.
You got what it takes
when it doesn’t hit back
your timing is perfect
when the clock’s clean
last call before the doors
close and the gas goes down
the tubes fed without chewing
the fat is virtual unloaded
docks the enemy mall,
touch and go without
feeling a thing just where your
skin should have been
there’s an upper crust instead
I’d be way ahead of after
all the dope is on the way,
kids, the dope is on the way!
–Frank Walsh