vision quest

the cards have been punched
the screens and hearts of a million americans have been touched

john kerry stands proud naked
excepting a headress made of teeth and gonads, his kills in vietnam
at his podium
fastened to the stern of a swift boat
idling on the delaware
war paint smeared in the folds of his well-worn mondalelike face

john edwards
on a leash
purring at his hairy
salt-and-pepper feet

a beatles song plays faintly
backwards in the background

"I bu-errried Paul"

"I bu-errrried Paul"

a beaming Usama sends the happy president elect a suicide bouqet

and dick cheney returns to the ocean until the time when he is once again awakened by nuclear testing off the coast of china
angered and ready to exact revenge
capitalizing upon the follies of man


-or, conversely-

dubya wins
the flamingest of gays handpicked by the Log Cabin Republicans
are shot from cannons onto Wall Street
like so much colorful confetti

an appreciative Osama sends the reigning incumbent a suicide bouqet

as Puff Diddy takes to the streets,
macing and (bitch)slapping
on a coast to coast
all-ghetto tour

he spares no expense
calling forth the ranks
of vote or die battallions
the G-Units, the No Limit Soldiers, the Ruff Ryders
and even the P. Funk Guitar Army

documentainmentarian Michael Moore and poppunkpogomogul Fat Mike
rather than slink off into obscurity
float off the coast to form their own sovereign island nations
in accordance with maritime law

jello biafra defects to his own brain

and americans return to their solemn duty of passively stalking one or both of the Olsen Twins

legend in my own mind

syed called me a couple weeks ago to tell me he saw me singing fucked up led zeppelic on Chic-a-go-go, a kid's show on local cable access

then fortune called me at a meeting last saturday to tell me that she saw me getting my ass royally beaten on a dvd documenting the iraq war protests in 2003

yesterday i got a call from erin to tell me that Sun Times old fart Rick Kogan got ahold of a copy of Gallery 37's book alchemy and read my dual homage to Pablo Neruda and soul food, "Ode to Fried Chicken", to the delight of her grandmother on WGN AM 720 Sunday Morning

still today i accomplished nothing

i missed class, i missed my friend Milk Crate at the Rock n Bowl, and didn't so much as crack a book

on the other hand i watched some good porn, had some good conversation with kate, and put to death a number of whores, cops, and West Coast stereotypes in the new Grand Theft Auto Game

than and i didn't crash my mother's car

this is no small feat considering the facts that i'm quite prone to accidents, i was driving exhausted through a torrential downpour, and that after fifteen minutes of driving the car reeked of burning rubber

i got home dizzy

to a house smelling of smoke

supposedly, my mother burnt some rice dish in the microwave

but i'm a little suspicious

perhaps i died in a fire
and the last bit of memory and imagination is playing itself out as smoke fills my nostrils and my heart slows

in an unrelated note
my exgirlfriends seem to be coming into some wonderful
usually scarce drugs

E___ is working to procure me some of her current beau's opium,
N_____, who lives 3 blocks away, called to tell me she'd happened upon some psilocybin

my head is reeling
tomorrow is election day and
i think i'm going to vomit

good night