Canto VII a / b
your unlucky day— your career ender— gone bender booze upright— : Wooster won’t jive with you, won’t watch the PM news, won’t hold your hand, divvy up the mortgage, pay the oil bill, resurface the drive— Rapid Rewards Membership none entered you’re a stay-at-home-dad with no kids, no AFLAC, no summer house, no Holy Matrimony— pick up sticks put up shut up give up hands up— tiger in your tank, seal in your tub, elephant in the living room Will Work for Dough Will Knead for Work— false dichotomies painful lobotomies— milk toast tea biscuit lemon curd lime turd tea curd gin toast lemon flirt pine tea curd flirt biscuit bitch tea gun runner toe curd rifle “Form 4684 w/ instr. rolled into cylinders and chambered in your frikking, silver plated Mosby Centennial shotgun pointed directly at your guts, you S.O.B.” think of the [future] children think of Mom & Sis think about your obit think about your pension your life insurance policy your side-by-side grave sites so shady your weed in the basement smothered in horseshit with blazing red buds beneath 150 watt PAR CANS Golf Pro? not a career Surfer? not a career President? not a career Headhunter not a job for a wuss House-husband not for the snippy : do you really want to test your luck? : pre-nup match up re-up b / a
“The little fool, she spends all her time writing. She’ll never be anything.” “How do you know she wants to be anything?” “Everyone wants to be something.” You never get something for nothing. Most agree that the lack of family cohesion in this country is due to the male principle’s unwillingness to confront conflicts and resolve them. They always manage to mention Vietnam as the ‘great lump in the stomach,’ where young men learned mortality. They say, ‘don’t strike me or be mean to me.’ As a result, they begin to be dominated by their female counterparts. Was she something?
Must we all be some thing? “Men are naturally selfish.” “Yes, they marry virgins because they know those girls will be easier to please.” “The little fools.” Coitus, a small bird flying into a mountain cave never to return. (Can I watch your clock? I know it’s strange to want you, but I can never be sure of myself until I possess someone. Security is all I want— can I ask you a question?) Possession is nine tenths of something or other. Dawn breaks and you listen for its shatter, but there is none. The station is empty. Someone died here last night. Silence gives an illusion of peace. You notice this the way ants hear footsteps, and the night’s dreadful quiets off. “Yes, well you know I’ll probably end up with a man who writes one poem and gives it to several women.” c / b
you may sail to another shore, if you wish : push off in your hollow boats and we will stand watch and wait— buckets of steamers smell dirty like the ocean at Port Canaveral submarines slipping in and out trawlers emptying bilge you floating in it mired in the flotsam tar between your toes scum in your hair— suffering has nothing to redden the lips as love squeezing through beside the one with stinkfoot even Odysseus yearned for peace for his plow for his weaver far from the walls of Troy— none of the Achaeans could know the god’s mind nor could the god’s plan be fulfilled w/o the schism of the marriage bed— and none could succeed unless the archer could be tricked into returning : maidens don’t waste your breath
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