Thursday, January 6, 2011

not nearly incoherent enough & mama just crossed the country

& my eyes crossed from fucking once & i had to hit my head against the truck stop wall afterwards to clear them & i walked back to my car with blood dripping down my face & a nice Kentucky woman asked, honey, are you all right? do you need a cold rag?

& i told her to stuff it & grabbed her cigarette from her fingers & said, ha, i don't even smoke.

& i took the rag, too, cos mama needed a whore bath & i sped off, listening to Grinderman & rubbing my cooch clean

here is a Grinderman song. it has good lyrics; like, i'm only happy when i'm inside her, & my baby calls me the loch ness monster; two great big humps & then i'm gone...

mama'll find that trucker who's only happy when he's inside her. she knows he's somewhere near a vending machine & he likes the candies, of course, & he doesn't have any change & that's how we'll meet. it'll be all ferris bueller's day off charlie sheen-like, except it won't be charlie sheen & he won't be handcuffed & mama's nose's small without a nose job & mama may be the one who's handcuffed later & there'll be no chorus going, mama or shauna or whatever...

whatever, & mama's eyes are crossing now cos she just found out her chapbook's a semifinalist for the Black River Chapbook Competition. there's some eye-crossing sexing  in the chap, too, & a fuck lot of glass smashing. tho it's not about truckers, just the apocalypse & balaclavaed babies & anarchists...


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