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| Anyway you look at it 120 x 100 x 2 cm acrylic on canvas |
THE URBAN
PROLETARIAT IS IN YOUR FACE (SONNET 5)
Well I’m pretty
sure she’d tell anyone to fuck off.
Like you,
for example, because you hate her.
Extravagantly
tattooed with embedded metals
exported
from two possibly three countries
each one systematically
exploited. I’d bet half my
paycheck
she’d cross any line. Her hair’s clean,
thick, chestnut
brown, like a depraved Kennedy
drooling
over apocalyptic video games.
She tries
on strap-ons at the local Porn Hub.
Steaming
over the event horizon’s a rank delicious
odor of
sauerkraut and pork loin plus boiled spud
in Berlin,
Chicago Cheese-Steak Sandwich in Cleveland,
a ton of
onion everywhere…dude, you may as well
kiss good
breath good-bye. Keg party on a back porch
in Portland,
and the fat lady on the couch ain’t singin’ till it’s over.
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