OUR FIRST TIME: POPPING THE CHERRY OF INFINITY

Somewhere on MTV street, New York, pedestrians in
square suits bicycle past absurd holy land cave -
stall number two; littered toilet wraps and urinal
cakes directing Hansel and Gretal madmen to holy
porcelain Mecca

Somewhere, the Goldfarb dreams sugar fairy polish
sausage thoughts - dynamite glittering in Y2k zipper
mirrors, beckoning with an eggplant foreskin, finding
the meaning of life while peeling an orange.

Somewhere, Jesus H. Christ masturbates dirty keyboard
torture, jaw lines tense drinking Mississippi;
mud coffee, depressed teeth and strands of prophet
curls:
white wedding broken,
Baskin college community hell
delivering drive!drive!drive!
to stray cat, sinking hope -beauty heart,

Somewhere, indie rock owen cassidy gives the finger
test, thumbs up and shaved head - wildly fire barefoot,
driving cross country to mojave desert booth:
1-800-****-*** dialing,
wandering across dry linoleum floor, phone-shy,
howling into noisy ear muff:
“IT IS BEDTIME!, IT IS BEDTIME! IT IS BEDTIME!”
sipping mushrooms from ziplock bags,
rubbing magnum through sheet like boxers,
explaining peyote vomit, 40 oz ethics, and meatbox America.

Somewhere,
Miss Mercury sells skin on alley street blind, lipstick smeared,
X marks the spot, tired of mascara rivers, punished thighs.
She stands, a Kali prostitute, waits
for tinted window enlightenment,
a scrambling leopard searching for milk money,
a beast, rainbow-puddle drowning.

I promised you a sign!
Vodka breath rain angels -
sky in an orgasm of starlight luster
Here we come: Miss Mercury.


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©Garrett Patrick Kelly AKA Fidel Casserole

Date of Birth: 02/07/81

Location: Arcata, California

Occupation: College Student

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