Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Invisible Handjob

Brinson.

You talk as if Thunder Cats aren't caviar.
As if dementia weren't decadent.

I dismantled your computer and found New York City
buzzing in the motherboard.
I autopsied your cadaver and found Parisian alleys
in your neurofibrillary tangles.

You're a dandy and a faker,
more regal than my Top Hat Voice.

Why don't you give a handjob to your minx petticoat
and put your money where my asshole is?

Lovingly,

Jordan

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