of lowdown prose,
that litters the page
like whiskey-driven scrawls
on drunk tank walls
recounting twisted
love affairs
with the seductive
dark ass of death
searching for
something real –
looking for
something certain –
by now,
it should be clear
the only things
for sure are:
the orbit
of the earth
around the sun,
& old coupe devilles…
but, if you wanna shoot,
go ahead, pull the trigger,
walk the plank,
slam that fatal fix…
or, better yet –
if you’re really crazy
about going out
in a pointless blaze
walk down to your
nearest recruiter
& sign
on the dotted line
maybe,
you can replace
some homesick kid
who’s tired
of staring
down the working end
of an ak47 –
tired
of waiting
for a dark-eyed lady
with explosives
strapped to her waist
who seriously craves –
a deadly embrace