Word Play

Exposure

So I get my ass hard boot kicked straight out of hell entirely too early and as a fetus reforming I temper tantrum beg for more beatings.

Instead a new anything prevails.

Bright shades of Zeus’s spiteful boredom strike at me with hues of my orange childhood. Tangerine lunch pail slices. Jungle gym paint chips. No. 2 dull.

I am undone.

No Dorothy to gather the straw.
Slapped funny,
slut stunned,
reeling to a new neurotics confederacy
and I am told,
very difficult to be around.

My side ached from god nat flicking my evolution across years and space and geographic cruelty,
with pure untainted and absolute void behind me.

I ape movie act in the sand, convinced the governor’s call couldn’t signal a god damned thing.

I am freed.

The collective Hecker birds scatter at the word of my release and
I am in power and I am alone.
The great spirit of manic beauty and petty abusive restraint had left me; she was gone without warning or explanation.
I stared slack jaw stunned as I sat alone like a peasant in the town square who awoke to realize the brutal occupying army pulled out the night before.
But there was no V-day parade.
Just an overwhelming sense of exposure.

———
(originally written circa 1994-2002)

Leave a reply

Fields marked with * are required