11,781 Readings | 1 Rating

Birds, Whatever

Here on the beach,
the garbage
is all spruced up,
             holy crap look at those crocodiles!

                           We ate pizza from a box,
whittled cheeses
pulled hot
and long.
Hey! I am eating my skin,
whatever.

I was in with the flies while,
carrying a docket of chairs,
you did everything you could to complicate.
What? Nothing.
Whatever.

To the left,
  others  impressed with my t-shirt
                                    which,
                             dude-bound, fell
in to the sea.
I menace them, having wrestled a goose
down to its pillow
once. 
Whatever.

I think of my neighbors in the apartment building,
they may be a family of goats.
Will they take the room downstairs.
Shut the hell up
wont you?

Look at those sexy people and their cooler.
Hey, you’re cardboard cutouts
are divine?
Whatever.

There is nothing in those hats,
only sun-poisoning
  and laughter
whatever
you are disposed to.

I can barely fit into
my mind’s
         bikini.

The Greeks taught me
to wax my brain hairs,
whatever.

I’ll trim my clothes-lines down
with a battalion of shavers.

All this spastic geography,
pro forma beach, my body’s
little hairs,
crumbling gulls and whatnot, 
whatever.

Give it up, gulls, there is no pizza-box!
The peoples don’t want.
Whatever.
Posted 03/19/12
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