Trashy love
When I was a kid, my mother would tell me
"Don't touch things once they've been in the garbage,
that's dirty." She'd also lecture against promiscuous sex
a dirty dive into the black, rank nether regions of trash.
And so I see a dumpster, I dive. She slowly relents her
sticky secrets to my searching seditious hands,
yielding with the groans and sighs of cardboard collapsing.
slowly, she relinquishes her sullied treasures.
I accept graciously the scornful sloppy seconds of
the wanton wreckage of over-consumption and glut
Whoever took too much had thrown away the rest, the spoilage
and I ate gluttonously of the still packaged surfeit.
She calls me over whenever I'm in the neighborhood
and together we protest the selfish notions of capitalism
and share in sordid communistic lovemaking
rolling in the fetid stench of moral decay.
"Don't touch things once they've been in the garbage,
that's dirty." She'd also lecture against promiscuous sex
a dirty dive into the black, rank nether regions of trash.
And so I see a dumpster, I dive. She slowly relents her
sticky secrets to my searching seditious hands,
yielding with the groans and sighs of cardboard collapsing.
slowly, she relinquishes her sullied treasures.
I accept graciously the scornful sloppy seconds of
the wanton wreckage of over-consumption and glut
Whoever took too much had thrown away the rest, the spoilage
and I ate gluttonously of the still packaged surfeit.
She calls me over whenever I'm in the neighborhood
and together we protest the selfish notions of capitalism
and share in sordid communistic lovemaking
rolling in the fetid stench of moral decay.