Thursday, January 16, 2014

Thursdays Are My Fridays

I can palm a ball, pick up a tab,
and drink from a flask. I can mutilate,
kick back, and get the rhythm of radio news.
All a person has to do is get better
at not giving a fuck. They told me that,
and then they tried to spoon me. A lower
caution point like orange, or a beaker
filled with something blinding and yellow as a sign.
They take pictures with a very high-tech
camera. They hold long lenses like cans of black
orange juice. I want a place among them.
I'll carve a face on my forearm and show
it to them at the door. I don't know what
I'm talking about. Thursdays are my Fridays.

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