But I’ll keep smiling,
and eating these noodles,
because I’d never want you to realise,
I can squash my own cockroaches now,
All posts in Writeoff
But I’ll keep smiling,
I saw a gypsy in the tiles today,
polka-dot kerchief on a stick
over his shoulder,
Next to him stood a giant,
with wings tall as skyscrapers,
sheltering a race of three-eyed aliens,
that fought valiantly against a tide of frogs,
leaping from the grout line
to the smoked glass shower recess.
I flushed and though the toilet paper
hugged the cleft of my hoof,
I was too entranced by
the sea-lions in the ceiling
We live in modern tents,
content below the slap of canvas
surfing the eastward breeze,
surrounded by cold beer and dee-vee-dees,
engrossed in gossip magazines
Unmindful of the motion-blur black,
buzzing around our corpses.
Thirteen hours late,
his bitter scythe lies rusty
across a shoulder tight
with late nights,
sockets void with
slammed doors and welfare checks.
He lights up, offers, I decline,
the cedar would still burn
in this salted ground,
smoke seeping out
You know how it is,
and I did.
Now, seat the child on the kitchen table,
a pretty coral orange
not as future-fashion-proof as promised
when Mommy picked it out.
Before beginning, pause and listen:
The screams of cicadas expiring within the bug catcher,
The scratch of training wheels on gravel,
The laughter of siblings splashing in the pool.
The sink should be quite big enough
(unless he really is a healthy lad!)
for scrubbing off the cobwebs
trailed from Prom night and the war.
(Note the scabs and scars where
this one was boiled in the canal)
(To the tune of Mr. Barnasaur’s Welcome Song)
Starting at its little hip
Slow down for those speeding bumps,
One red line from tail to lip,
Now four more down its flailing stumps,
Careful, careful grip the halves
And pull between the slipping calves
One last stretch and then you’re done!
And now it’s time for cooking fun!
It is recommended,
though hardly reinforced,
the skin be hung and dried,
for a reminder,
once the body is consumed.
Heart with right hand,
Brain with left,
Never chew more than three times per bite,
Or twenty-three times per organ.
Only washing up remains,
Rinse the plates, oil the knives,
Fill the space where he once slept,
With work and a large teevee.