(no subject)
i used to love
a raucous life
laced with lesbians
and anything socially taboo
now i sit down
and write like
i was a bible beater
my boyfriend sings some gospel song
about living on milk and honey
and i imagine us, still drunk on the hard pews of that
pentecostal church, my shirt inside out
while we ate their persimmon pudding
under the burn of pious eyes
a bottle of ezra brooks sloshing
a little dead sea in my purse
and in this equation
the only things parting are lips
and the only staff
lived between his two legs
but i do recall a little from the past
my big sister grew up in the southern hills
and came home smelling of goats, to dope
smoking parents, who eventually moved to the
suburbs and raised us up proper and classy.
i would play on the green expanse of manicured
lawn, while my burnout neighbor shot his b.b.gun
at our cats, and every night i heard my sister
zip up her leather coat and slide out the window
to meet the boy who blew smoke rings and rode
a motorbike. and i would sit and eat dirt
as the rest of the family stayed up yelling
in the amber window light, which spilled into the
summers humid night. I remember my father
coming into my room and tossing me over his shoulder
while the firetrucks wailed into the driveway cause
the burnout next door had planted a molotov cocktail
in my sisters car, and it blazed like a phoenix on
the black top, and the burnt spot stay after
sister moved out, to live in Alaska with some
scraggly fisherman, and wear waders to her chest
and i got braces, and i got drunk at the age of
12 off some cherry pucker my boyfriend stole from his
dad. and the folks got greyer strand by strand
and everyday bled into the next all too fast and
brilliant to remember, just some vague multicolored
past. and i spent five years with bloodshot eyes
and some self imposed black lung, while pappa
tightened his tie up, and mother kept the whole
family upright. and i drank one night
and drove right into an uninsured driver,
and escaped unscathed. and all sorts of debauchery
knit itself into my little soul. then
grandmamma moved into the laundry room
and i got banned from church,
and took up soul skating
and still got my lazy ass to college
now what...
my sisters about to marry a man 32 years her senior
my grandma died in the laundry room
my folks are packing boxes up to the ceiling
i want all my life to fit into a duffle bag
i want to remember everything and consequently
i cant even remember to shower.
but i thank all the thousands of deities and devils for memory.
a raucous life
laced with lesbians
and anything socially taboo
now i sit down
and write like
i was a bible beater
my boyfriend sings some gospel song
about living on milk and honey
and i imagine us, still drunk on the hard pews of that
pentecostal church, my shirt inside out
while we ate their persimmon pudding
under the burn of pious eyes
a bottle of ezra brooks sloshing
a little dead sea in my purse
and in this equation
the only things parting are lips
and the only staff
lived between his two legs
but i do recall a little from the past
my big sister grew up in the southern hills
and came home smelling of goats, to dope
smoking parents, who eventually moved to the
suburbs and raised us up proper and classy.
i would play on the green expanse of manicured
lawn, while my burnout neighbor shot his b.b.gun
at our cats, and every night i heard my sister
zip up her leather coat and slide out the window
to meet the boy who blew smoke rings and rode
a motorbike. and i would sit and eat dirt
as the rest of the family stayed up yelling
in the amber window light, which spilled into the
summers humid night. I remember my father
coming into my room and tossing me over his shoulder
while the firetrucks wailed into the driveway cause
the burnout next door had planted a molotov cocktail
in my sisters car, and it blazed like a phoenix on
the black top, and the burnt spot stay after
sister moved out, to live in Alaska with some
scraggly fisherman, and wear waders to her chest
and i got braces, and i got drunk at the age of
12 off some cherry pucker my boyfriend stole from his
dad. and the folks got greyer strand by strand
and everyday bled into the next all too fast and
brilliant to remember, just some vague multicolored
past. and i spent five years with bloodshot eyes
and some self imposed black lung, while pappa
tightened his tie up, and mother kept the whole
family upright. and i drank one night
and drove right into an uninsured driver,
and escaped unscathed. and all sorts of debauchery
knit itself into my little soul. then
grandmamma moved into the laundry room
and i got banned from church,
and took up soul skating
and still got my lazy ass to college
now what...
my sisters about to marry a man 32 years her senior
my grandma died in the laundry room
my folks are packing boxes up to the ceiling
i want all my life to fit into a duffle bag
i want to remember everything and consequently
i cant even remember to shower.
but i thank all the thousands of deities and devils for memory.