November 22, 2007

brigley's seminar

Wet Dream

The pattern of melted

Cream on faded dungarees

And a shaving rash

She’s had since birth.

The second time was better

Than the first,

Something educated in

Acting out a posthumously scripted part.

The naked man in the universe

With Blue Eyes and

A Bottle of Beer,

And any kind of sex you want

In shadow puppets on the wall.

A little social lubrication for

This outmoded furry fear.

She sees paint-by-number faces

Blocked in against her “home, sweet home”

A maladapted pig in orange.

The scar tissue like a leathered kiss

Between her dehydrated thighs

Is changing like the seasons,

Shedding lips.

On the broken arched sole of a foot

Is the typewriter missing the fatness of an “O”

And underneath pushed-back cuticles

Half-moons crown the hungry,

Swollen calluses on fingers

Of a blinded circus clown.

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