Ask Again Later

Sipping soup, I begin to wonder
if the Answer would be worth the destruction
were the world a magic eight ball

Imagine: shaken bakin' babies, confused epileptics,
and a surprising plethora of Baptist Preachers
reenacting the sermon on the mound
with slightly inappropriate enthusiasm

then, hark! the seizure subsides

Sleepily, possibly hungover,
the Answer tiptoes in

gleaming white through the rubble
framed in a beautiful blue acute...

Has-Been

once, a tab of acid
burned the roof of his mouth
snaked through sinuses
into his spongy mass

seduced, he'd worshipped
curvacious dancing bears
rocking coquettishly, playing
heavily discordant piccolos
music hollowed, heavy,

shattering
like most Mondays
like this Monday

like his last family reunion,
and that one porno
he always wished he'd seen

like the devil's sirens--
feared trumptets of nostalgia--
jolting him awake
in the middle of a conference

Where's your hair, man?
Where's the reefer?
How'd your hands get so clean?