Ft Vending Machine (Collar 4)

26 May



Ft Vending Machine


Collar 4:


There’s No Moving On


Yo Salieri,

maybe history did you wrong

or maybe you were an almost

Oscar winning prick


either way


History has always been mortal

just like the rest of us


we’re all corpses at some point

placed randomly or somewhat randomly

on the dartboard of a strip mall buffet table

on a sunny Sunday afternoon


They love: all you can eat macaroni

and pub tips


and we’ll love to play darts

when you love me

we’ll love to play darts


so don’t sweat it

ya sweaty tombstone

don’t sweat it


even though

everything’s always sweaty


everything’s always

the perfect hat that doesn’t fit me


everything’s missed field goals

followed by the possibility of touchdowns


followed by the fact that I was

goddamn certain I’d asked

Word’s Auto Correct to stop

fucking auto-correcting



but it refuses to obey orders

just like reality


just like that first time

I saw her

and how I unsuccessfully tried like hell

not to saw her


because I knew she could be

the end

of me


and for a long time she was


and always will be


but fuck,

you either lay down

or you spend the entire weekend

watching The Six Million Dollar Man Season 4

in a not-quite laying down/haven’t-given-up-yet-

only-semi-laid-down-like position


and as you know

I sometimes hate to lay down

and Season 4 of The Six Million Dollar Man

if beautiful!



you know,

no choice!


when every second

is choosing


I choose the latter


if by latter I mean beauty


I choose beauty

over Vaseline


wounded humanity

over total robotics


Instead of the steak

I choose the cow


So let us throw their goddamn

laser rifles

to the ground




grab yr great dress

and follow me

down the hallway

past the locked doors

behind which


the politically savvy

sleep the dead sleep

of cheap tippers


and I will build you a fort

out of available vending machines

behind which


barricaded between

entombed Snickers bars


we can

make out




(part 4 of a four collared poem)


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