With cuecards
Places a coxcomb on my head
And tells me entertain,
The involuntary actress of a Sunday
mantinee
I suck on a cigarette, although I do not smoke
I waver though I am steady
That is why, mother, I plead and plea
I know it will make great TV.
When my mother laughs, A sunburst of striations explode From her left eye, The same asymmetrical Grimace which spawns On my own temple...
The auctioneer’s daughter Holds a closet off a seldom Used stair Where the West Wastes away A rough rider’s jacket, The velveteen vestige...
Like a wounded Wildebeest, Our Tavern sits Abandoned, About to die Heaving boys Forming foaming Rivers of half-digested Booze down the...
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