what is a planet?
well
it's a place
where things
happen for awhile
until they don't
it's pretty sad
sitting on a roof
w/ you Jeff–
arguing about what is
suicide & what isn't
suicide
we were just splitting hairs
i think
i think it's very easy
to cope w/ pain
when pain is pretty
& clear cut
i was driving
w/ Sujung
when i revealed
to her
my desire to wear heels
she seemed horrified
& asked "why?"
& i said i thought
"it would be funny"
but what i really think
is how sexy i'd look
in women's clothes
if i wasn't fat
which is what i am
i am so many things
when i was drunk
tonight
i kept wanting
to talk about
how i gave
a panhandler
named Jerry
an $8 breakfast
from Burger King
the truth is
i'm still drunk
& that's fine
because this is
the last great poem
i'll ever write
i'm on a roll
right now
& i won't let
yr feeble poetics
interrupt me
in a poem
'you' could be anyone
the person i love most
to eat Burger King
breakfast with
for instance
& at this instant
my brain is giving up on me
which is why
i lit
another cigarette
i love lights:
like my street lamp
which flickers on
& off
but usually
feels broken
or the stars
the stars i told James i love
before he destroyed
a golf cart
or even
those new environmental light bulbs
that are filled w/ mercury
& take too long
to turn on
& when i say on
i mean on
i'm eager to write about Orpheus
because i want to sing in hell
i'm eager to write about Karl Marx
because on my death bed
i want to know
how hungry the future isn't
for me
i'm certain my ribs
would taste delicious
if i was fatter
& i'm certain i'll never finish
this poem
if i don't finish
it now
& i'm not staring
at my flickering street lamp
unless my street lamp
is shorthand for me
& everything:
the poem
the cigarette
the universe
isn't it pathetic
to use the word 'universe'?