Her Tight Black Mini Skirt

Fits like a big red boxing glove

on Muhammad Ali’s fist

punching me in the mouth

and knocking my teeth out

as I lick the clit.

Humans.

Prepare for extinction.

There is a new world waiting for us.

There is no more space on Earth.

Your children will run out of water.

She controls the weather.

Broken hearts create violence in our society.

This evening, she put on that tight black mini skirt again.

I think of Homestead, Little Haiti, Overtown,

and the first night on the floor of Guido’s

after smoking.

Stick My Nose

                               Into the crucifix tattooed on her shoulder.

                  Into the neon swastikas

                                                          deep inside of her eyeballs.

This is a suicide note.

Folded into a little triangle.

And

Left under her pillow,

With a mint.

 What is death like?

                              I wanna fucking know, said Queen Elizabeth

Holding a gun to my temple.

Death is so close.

I inhale.

I lick my fingers.

I close my eyes and I see death.

                           Death has taken residence in my stomach.

I squeeze Death out of my small intestine.

 My tires screech

My lungs, my vocal chords, my fingertips squeeze the steering wheel

Like buttocks in the oven.

The glass shatters in my brain

I sit in jail.

Carnival cruise ship horror movie

police sirens to the West.

I lift my foot, touch my nose, and recite the alphabet backwards.

Taking shits at Dade County Jail

Is not as bad as taking shits in The Tombs.

My Generation

Is better than yours.

We had no cell phones.

No emails.

Nobody had computers.

We went to the mall,

And stole Black Sabbath cassettes.

Thinking of Last Week

Intervention Apartheid.

Said the man in the bunk bed below.

Last year was ok.

I was writing for the local

Alternative newspaper.

Five years ago

I was in Europe.

Drinking coffee and smoking cheese

In an Amsterdam Museum.

I love museums,

And I miss Sean, who died of a heroin overdose last year.