My first name is a random set of numbers and letters
And other alphanumerics that changes hourly forever My last name, a thousand vowels fading down a sinkhole To a susurrus, couldn’t just be John Doe or Bingo My address a made-up language written out in living glyphs Lifted from demonic literature and religious text Telephone uncovered by purveyors of the ouija Then checked against the CBGB women’s room graffiti My social a sudoku, my age is obscure My in-case-of-emergency is in the daisies chasing birds Employed by trillionaires with perfect teeth and pores And people who open doors for the people who open doors My medical history is a course at SUNY Buffalo Charlatan psychiatry and troubleshooting undertow Nervous in the service still, I’m burger meat and purple pills “Here,” “Thank you, we’ll call your name,” “Sure you will.” Skipped lunch I’m shrunk You pack up all your manias, you’re sitting in the waiting room You’re dreaming of arcadia, you’re feeling like a baby tooth Awaiting panacea, channeling your inner Beowulf In purgatory just before you pay up to filet yourself And others, in the name of help, coal on a conveyor belt Into ego death alone, no telephone from Gabriel I’m half a human combin’ over home and garden stoned Gold chains over turtleneck, cigars over cologne A thousand shitty paintings wrap around the wounded animal Woo him with the Schubert, he’s a future human cannonball Little fuckers fighting, mother hiding in her Hulu I’m climbing up the stucco, let’s get to the seppuku Uh-oh, that pretty penny turned the prickly into Benji If you save up all your winnings
Then you get to count your blessings I finally crunch the budget up and punch the button She called my name out and pushed me into an oven The fuck? I’m shrunk She says, “I’m not your enemy.” I said, “That sounds like something that my enemy would say Instead of playing off the chemistry.” She said, “You’re being difficult.” I said, “I’m being guarded; you’re a quarter mil in debt
I get more guidance from my barber Look, I’m not good at this, I grew up in a noogie-fest You built your walls up high
Or say goodbye to all your Cookie Puss Here’s one: every time my telephone buzzes
I see images of hooded riders setting fire to hundreds.” She said, “When you start getting all expressive and symbolic It’s impossible to actualize an honest diagnostic.” I said, “When you start getting all exact and algebraic
I’m reminded it’s a racket, not a rehabilitation.” Okay, agree to disagree as grown-ups from opposing clans Honoring the push and pull
I should have called the Scholomance Oh well, preservation is a doozie “Will you be needing another appointment?” “Absolutely,” I’m shrunk!