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Remember that cat from Wonderland?
He smiled at Alice and turned himself upside down, I always thought
he looked like such a liar.

Like why would you take a message from the mailman,
if it was dripping in blood?


It's the same thing as moulded bread in icing: cake until you bite it.


But it comes in so fast, I feel like Neo with Trinity, no choice but to absorb
the code with Smith wandering around behind me whispering, whispering,
"it really is cake,
you'll try it,
inevitable."

and just like that little chains have formed around my brain and I just love
to swipe my credit card through the slot guided
by some pretty lady who doesn't even know me
but promises this is just what I needed.

Crooked Feet

Her feet didn't look right.

She had five kids and they all escaped the foot curse

but her,

she had one walker that seemed like it was 

always thinking about something not in the conversation,

like it was trying to run away from the work camp

where she was raped over and over

for not having a boyfriend

or a house,

(we gave her a house.)

(we painted it mint green.)

Stephania came from one of those men,

though she was a far cry from the torment of her mother's womb.

"Hermana" - all hugs and braiding my hair,

because hers had all been shaved off

because the kids in the villiage all got lice.

She helped me pick nails up from the dirt/dust

to give to the men pounding nails

into the frame of her mother's new 3-room house.

(the husband came back after we built it.)

(he married the mom later in life)

(he came back when there was less work to be done.)

You know, in Canada,

if someone is born with a thinking foot,

we go all sorry-complex over it.

"Oh my word, someone screwed her foot on the wrong way!!"

"Chiquita, we're going to get you a new foot.

Here is a nice man named Doctor. He's going to

fix it for you.

So sorry!"

And so I could never quite figure out how

crooked foot = vagina anihilation. 

Your Girlfriend in 2D

On my back dark clothes
moaning like my throat as they try
to find the ground in tattered shreds,
every thrust forcing them farther from their sister sinews,
I never planned to make a living
selling the one thing I've ever really had control of.

A camera man yells "CUT!"

I sigh, regain myself for the next scene,
pleasure filled....
well... filled,
and my chest heaves under the shreds of shirt
begging to be let free.

A shot,
a puff,
a light,
some action.

Next scene.

My hands find their targets and
of course my lips follow,
speaking a memorized line,
full of yes and love and do,
but not that kind of yes or love or do.

A hook, and
My shirt whispers past my ear:
save me!
I glance at it as it sails accross the room.

CUT!

"You can't always fuckin look when he takes off your shirt.
Kay, lets do the scene again."

She got away in her shreds,
but I'll do the scene again.
And again,
and again,

and I'll come to you in 2D,

pixelated and perfect,

of course.

Did you even pay for me?

We Are People

We are people,
and why so afraid of skin?
You
you
have it in your hands
to touch,
but afraid we fill it with metal weapons,
hey,
put it down and
give a handshake at the bus stop.
I adore a smile from you

a real person

in my face asking for directions,
"where is the highway?
I'm going home."