"By the Root Canal"
I live around teeth.
It's a bad neighborhood.
There's a factory way down south
and its products are inconsistent.
The workers there keep
pretty much to themselves. That's
enough about them. The rest
of this world is chaos,
reaching, walking,
inconveniently dying.
Then there is
the velvet rose,
the dapper dream,
the ice cream thinking cap,
the 24 hour store. A bomb
has woken from a nap
next to the church
where no one prays anymore.
Street signs, street symbols,
street smarts, all roads lead
to the penitentiary. Art
buzzes, busy little bee
it is. I like war
babies, they're so crazy.
This flesh is so
easily tempted, you've got
to go back to the Mesozoic
to find a peaceful heart.
I put things in my
attic to help me forget
the basement, I make blood,
urine, feces, snot.
I walk the way
the animals walk.
I write with vegetable
chalk. I trade cows
for beanstalks.
I wear hats when
my hair gets long.
Now and then I open
my mouth and sing songs.
It's the mouth I eat with.
Sometimes I hit a nerve.
I live around bad teeth.
© 2008 Andrew Dufresne
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