I am in the brad pitts
in need of ed norton anit-virus
wanna be carved from wood
by a blind man
on an Alabama gulf coast porch
wanna pick people out my teeth
pick people out
in my mind
snipe out of sight
with a quip
shovelfuls of shame
soil of doubt
pile up the graves
make a name
fasting
always be hungry
always running forward
looking back, looking up looking ahead
never satisfied
snicker in my sneakers
squeaking at the squawkers
posing for the gawkers
clipping the mohawkers
no chaps
but I’m tracking
no bucks
but I’m firing
wearing orange in the trees
out of season out of reason
ain’t plain
ain’t just salt and pepper
bright and foreign
I don’t even comprehend myself
can’t sit still on the shelf
roaming
no charges
boasting
no larger
than
my mind will allow
but I got a big imagination
can you imagine
haven’t found my yoko
don’t got my christmas album
no children’s choir
more like tyler
munching on una cucaracha
vacay in cabo
not looking for muchachas
but I am liable
to put up that front
Im an edifice
I must insist
on making a fist
to friend or foe
got my defenses up
you got my trust
but you got my bullet tip
on the cusp of my lip
I’m watching you
don’t make a slip