No Mama No Papa No Whiskey Soda


I live exactly there: among
the ruins of you… ranting
and looting and raving—zooted
off to a liminal extreme

peanut butter and honey and a pipe
riding a mind—inside, an empty
pool built of desiccating susurrations
I am lonely but I survive

even thriving—the water yells out
its inane tomfoolery—picking at shells
I excuse myself… also you: I excuse you
even though… well, I really shouldn’t

English boy, English boy
surrendering more every passing day
an empire for the sun—no longer
conquering me