Trump Drives On Deep Into Twitter (watermelon 3)

 

Trump Drives On Deep Into Twitter

(watermelon 3 of a 12 watermelon poem)

for Richard Brautigan

 

I have two cheeseburgers, Doc Holiday said

to Trump, in his dream, One for each of you.

 

and the President had an erection,

because he really wanted both of them

 

cheeseburgers

 

He’d fallen asleep

with his Russian VHS pee tape sitting at the foot

of the bed, watching Tombstone

again

 

While in the wide awake world

 

America is a long road trip in a flesh and bones go-cart

with the breaks chopped out

and President Trump is a self-sentient catheter

 

rudely inserted up the pee-holes

of all his overly hydrated followers

 

A duffle bag shaped flim-flam

picking fights with a dead senator

while mouthing off from Hitler’s old playbook

in front of a complicate horde of red caps

felating their deeply ingrained race fears,

ecstatically attempting to prove their point with snowballs,

while cupping the entrenched testicles

of their collective hate

 

until all those lizard bastards HST warned us about

croak out another goddamn “Lock Her Up!”

before they cum

 

While what’s left of the semi-sane world

looks on, in evaporating bafflement

and Nicolas-Cage-watching-a-snuff-film-

in-that-movie-8 MM type horror

 

“Fuck that!”, my pillow shark screamed

 

We’re so lost, and

Time was invented

to rub it in when we lose things

 

Which is just, horrible

Sarah Sanders playing Truth or Dare

with Rudy and Kellyanne Conway

while watching that shitty new movie about

Motley Crue on Netflix

with the soul of what’s left of the Earth’s ozone

up for grabs

defcon hold-on-to-your-underpants

level horrible

 

Because, shit

In a game like that

Every option is a goddamn Dare

 

Existence melting like icebergs

into an un-hinged monster made out of

blood soaked jean jackets, extinction, and

Dare

 

So: We’re fucked,

Right?

(my pillow shark nods it’s front snout ‘yes’)

Inevitably, because

 

How are all these fragile bones of truth

supposed to survive an all you can eat

party game built like that?

 

The answer is: It can’t, so

 

What’s The Avenger’s endgame

aka best case scenario

in never being able to defeat

something like that?

 

#theAnswerIsNotAntman

 

Everything’s inevitable

Everything set up to enter its dust phase eventually

and then it all just blows away

 

So what do we do about that?

 

One can only watch Ridley Scott’s Alien

so many hundreds of times

before its ability to ward off the horrors

of the real world

wears off

 

“It’s obvious, Robert.”

A Life Less Ordinary

 

Yep,

 

So now I no longer wonder

why I can’t sleep, hooray,

or whatever,

Still, once again:

 

it’s 2 a.m.

In a dark apartment booked in by cement blocks

where my only companion

is the sound of a 50 year old heating unit

kicking in like a broken romantic

in love with the frost

 

There are still nights when I kick

the blankets off

and pretend the visible mist

that slips out the mouth on my face

is you

 

love and crock pots

vs.

curling irons and burned scalps

 

Count Chocula

vs.

a shark that has never experienced cereal

 

the Earth’s penis

vs.

Bukowski’s youth

 

(Shit, it’s like we’re always taking a test)

 

Enough, already

 

Dear Window,

 

On this brand new cold night

I’m going to leave you open

Until it doesn’t seem fair

 

Please don’t take it personally

 

My intention is entirely selfish:

 

I need to exhale her

like a sky lost

without clouds

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