boomtown ignited

boomtown ignited


or "another somewhat layered mostly literal stream of conscious metaphysic metaphoric exploration of the city i've lived in my whole life and how it stands up to my memories and expectations, only theis time the Loop instead of Roger's Park"

three monks were
scraping sand into
a limstone mandala
for tourists' pennies
and quarters with pictures
of their hometowns
I kneeled down between
them with palms down and feet up and
snorted
I did a line clear accross of
red dirt, pixieglitter, and sparkly shit
we used to steal from Claires for girlfriends
who numbed each other with ice cubes and carbonated vodka drinks
when they pierced each other in the drama room
my head swelled
there was a new sheen
in the grooves under my eyes
like my father
following his brother
all the way back to egypt

There was a calf, golden
but really bronze with Picasso shaved into his retina
a girl looked on
with a face like a goldfish
it was true
only her mother did love her face
but that was enough for her
she was happy, if
a little confused, at least
she looked a little confused
her mother took her up and
led her
into a garden in a park inside a museum
within a biger park
they sniffed the feet of sleeping homeless
men as they
rose from flower beds like
veiny black fins

a girl in pink with too much
tits and a nose that could use a bit of shaving
lifted her skirt to prove that she could play violin
to a man in yellow
skirt up, she proceeded to
Paganini her ass off
the man called for
backup
and
shoved her into traffic
rusting giraffes
a sea of bulging thighs
teeming million starving jackals
who laughed because there was nothing else to fill their mouths with
obelisks that made us proud to have obelisks
bled on cue to make us laugh
just like one of those martyrs
you can buy pictures of
at gift shops
where you can buy pictures of martyrs

wet children
danced for perverts
like lobsters in a tank
most likely unsuspecting
but who knows?
I read in the Newsweek
that everyone's a cocktease these days
and we all waste water and
when the old fields and roads of Illinois buffalo
get wet enough,
warm enough
the place really does smell like one
big
cut
green onion