from I GET GROCERIES
Their pin numbers invent me middle-aged.
Bored of the light and bored of the dark,
I’m the bore mannequin fist bumps defend.
Under a bulb made of sandwich,
Every hair on my head is a medical helicopter —
A ghoulish palm tree on a nuked-blue beach.
Noses nailed to feet
Gonna listen to my urine pretending to be a monkey.
This motherfucking prison of Saint Augustine!
The very little food left in the world
Shows what I’ve been looking for all my life.
Great is what repeats me mannequin-aged.