For the d and the b
When you have been off playing with death in rural America I am sedated on the couch…
Staring at dried out carnations and a life-sized yoda…
But sometimes you call with tales of tails and curly laughter…
And I laugh under my frown…
“every night I dream that I’m bald and have no teeth. I think it’s something to do with sexual inadequacy. My tictac dick, is that it”…
And, yes, that is it.
And in that dream I had…
Where he was trapped in his house…
Bloodied and frenzied…
He couldn’t see me…
He was years away…
States away…
But I was still outside his door
He had large calves…
I always thought he just bought pants that were small at the bottom…
You never really look at someone’s calves…or eyes…
And he randomly meets people of great importance at coffee houses I hate…
He claims the encounters are random, but we all know he spills his coffee on them and uses apology as a clever introduction…
He doesn’t like ‘dick’ or ‘fucking’ jokes…
(some things you learn the hard way…)
Or vodka…really…
But for the most part…the fucker loves everything…
Or at least likes…
I almost wonder if when he falls he thanks the ground for catching him…
Or thanks the sky for not pushing too hard…
I think I must have met him on a mountain…
Analyzed him over the wide terrain…
With dual-turned backs and a dharma-bummed whistle that said
‘I’m not like you’…
And I laughed under my frown…
And I never thanked you for putting your earplugs in so you wouldn’t hear me puking in the bathroom…
And for pretending to be sleeping when I walked past you to get to the porch…
Where I would puke again…
(over the railing this time…)
And frighten that family of squirrels…
And it makes me wonder…
Where o where would I be without the d and the b…
Greatest asexual threesome the world was to see…
-Kelly Sexton, from Dear Mr. Phillips, Thanks for the Brandy. i hate what i've become
