EAT THE CROW

I have disapointed everyone and my mother.
I spoke of twins, both gray and pink twins,
I drank a can of air freshener from Mexico
Aerosol de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe
and I puked on a horse. I put a frozen rose
in my pocket and flopped out the door,
rubbing the rose on my face and growling
at the seamstresses about this winter weather.
Lately I find myself flopping all over the place,
over bicycles, down refrigerated streets,
through meat packing plants, out of the bus
and off to the mortuary. I figure hey-fuck-it
this crooked back is my crooked back,
I could paint my head red, or I could go out
into the world and find a good place to shit
like everyone else. Instead I go on about you
to some bald asshole with poet monogramed
on the lapel of his fat head. He kept
picking up the phone and accusing my mother
of biting off his dick. At least she
didn’t really bite off his dick. At least I
fooled some of them. At least now
I know I will quit trying to fool myself.
I have missed someone. I have missed you.
So that is everyone, Mother, you, everyone else:
dissapointed. A while back I rolled down a roof
and flopped through a plywood Spanish campaign sign.
I gave that to you.