The You and Me Bucket

Here we are stuck in the you and me bucket
We tried to get out once, but then we said fuck it
A bucket's a fine place to be for us two
There's a chair here for me and a chair here for you
There's not room for much else, but what else would we need?
You're already wearing your suit of green tweed
I'm already wearing my slippers and gown
So why would I grumble or hem-haw and frown?
We're complete! And I don't miss the non-bucket world
Where A-bombs and H-bombs and F-bombs are hurled
It's scary out there, but it's safe here with you
It's extremely unlikely that we'll catch the flu
It's our very own quarantine, isn't it grand
That my one occupation is holding your hand
Shucks, this you and me bucket will suit us just fine
'Cause the time that we spend here is just yours and mine.

Cursing in impervious carrot shacks

Cursing in impervious carrot shacks
Eunuchs
Bat leather
Gold
You can curse these things and more in your carrot shack
The orange, none say, is calming

&$:&))@/!!"--!
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#*%%!!?~~!\€<$(@!

And if, in your fit of rage, you break your fist on carrots
pop a forehead vein
the fault is yours
do not eat yourself out
they are impervious both ways.

A Day in the Life of an Orphanage Director

The orphans are hungry, the weeds should be picked

The clock on the wall ticks its third-to-last tick

I can’t find my suitcase, my pitbull is ill

It's cloudy and damp and the air has a chill

I’m nervous; I chew on my lips ‘til they’re bleeding

The orphans are pounding, demanding their feeding

The office is locked, but quite soon they’ll break through

They shout, “Give us our crackers and hot carrot stew!”

“Pick the weeds and eat those!” I say. “I’m too upset

To feed orphans. So the weeds’ all’s the dinner you’ll get!”

But the orphans break in, and one carries a brick

The clock on the wall ticks its third-to-last tick

He beats in my brains and he leaves me for dead

My sick pitbull whines, licks the blood from my head

They break into the pantry, steal chocolates and fruits

They break into my closet, try on my best suits

“Call the doctor!” I gasp to one orphan—quite young

Who stands still, watching Spark lick my wounds with his tongue

“I will call,” says the child. “Please don’t die.” (I feel flattered).

The ambulance comes and the orphan boys scattered

I'm taken to hospital, into E.R.

I wake up two hours later; my scalp has a scar

And my hospital gown has a pattern of stripes

At the window, the orphans shake long metal pipes,

And they’re chanting, “You bastard! You give us our stew!”

And I’m sweating, lip-biting, don’t know what to do

So I think of the weeds that have grown in the grass

But the orphans break in, they have smashed through the glass

They’re about to attack, when ol’ Sparky appears

And he’s snarling so vicious it vibrates his ears

With his razor sharp teeth he bites ankles and shins

The orphans, scared shitless, leap out of their skins

They escape through the window, and never come back

And Sparky curls up, warm and proud, on my lap

“Oh, sweet Spark, you got better!” I say, “You’re not sick!”
And the clock on the wall ticks its third-to-last tick.

i want to capture strange tendernesses with you

i want to capture strange tendernesses with you and put them in cardboard boxes with homemade mazes like rats

we’ll need a stopwatch.

one strange tenderness has a diet of lemonade

one strange tenderness has a diet of oatmeal and small rocks

one strange tenderness we cuddle in our hands every morning while the sun comes up

does this last one run slower

delirious with the memory of its sunrise love?

a good scientist treats his hypothesis

like a walrus treats his baguette

"what's it gonna do next?" he asks

(it's just a fancy word
for long bread).

I'm A Cross-Dressing Spider

I'm a cross-dressing spider
And flies are my meals
But it's hard to catch flies
In my bra and high heels.

Lifeguards Are Sometimes Jerks

I went to the beach to go swim in the sea

“You can’t swim,” said the lifeguard. “You don’t have a key.”

“There’s no key to the sea!” I responded with rage

But that second he pushed me inside of a cage.

“If you’re clever enough,” he said then, “to get free

Then you’re too smart to drown, and that’s less work for me.”

“Are you kidding?” I said. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Nope, not really,” he said, and he sipped on his Coke.

Well, I’d come there with nothing, except for my clothes

What was I s’posed to do? Pick the lock with my toes?

“Come on, lifeguard!” I said. “Why ya doin’ this crap?”

“Cause I dig it,” he told me. “Now shut ya damn trap.”

So I waited all day in that stupid locked cage

With my skin turning pink from both sunburn and rage

And when night fell I said, “Man, I’ve had it! No more!”

And the lifeguard said, “Fine, dude. But first, sweep the floor.”

“Oh, now I’m your slave?” I said. “Isn’t that grand!”

But I looked then and saw: I was standing on sand.

Anthropo-Floral Romance

If I only had the power, I would turn into a flower

Fuse my legs into a stem and make ‘em green
The stem will have stomata, or at least I think it oughta

And my leaves will have a healthy, waxy sheen.

After that, I will be aimin’ to turn torso into stamen

Eyes and mouth and ears to petals, one by one

I’ll make pollen with my anthers; I’ll have seeds as black as panthers

And my petals will be yellow when I’m done.

Then you’ll come along and pick me, take me home and gently stick me

In a vase I know you keep in your boudoir

You’ll gaze serenely at my beauty, smell my fragrance (slightly fruity)

And admire how I’m golden like a star.

Then at night I’ll watch you sleeping, and I’ll silently be weeping

‘Cause I’ll never sleep with you, no not with you

But you won’t detect my mourning upon waking in the morning

‘Cause you’ll see my tears and think they’re only dew.

You will give me water daily, and you’ll play your ukulele

For me, having read that music’s good for plants

Then you’ll sit and do your quilting, and I’ll watch you, slowly wilting

Petals shrink, detach and fall—a morbid dance.

After days of petal shedding (which is like a slow beheading)

You will think that I look bare and past my prime

So you’ll throw me in the bin, and shut the lid (a clash of tin)

And that’s the end…but we were lovers, for a time.