I didn't elope
I didn't lose my ass
I didn't get a whore
I didn't go to the buffet at the Belagio
I didn't leave anything there
Except a portion of my identity as an American
Which according to the US Government
Rises in direct proportion to the cost of La Liberte eclairant le monde
And fits neatly on the surface of a postage stamp.
Censor the thing and fill the operating room with bacteria
Take away my freedom to ignite personal hypocrisy and hunger strike
I wear shoes on the outside of my body
I venture to outline a descriptive motivation behind suicide
In the derriere vernacular posited by Lacan and Foucault
Within my own mind, extremis tenderloin
Bite back mi hombre, take flight risk the house and kids
Cup of water bedside sulfur dioxide, heat-seeking dreams
It used to be the telephone to awaken you from hell
I feed the city particular nouns based on historical reverie
Look up to a positive force a billboard of glowing neon
Buy the correct product for your safety depends on righteous activity
Peace of mind depends on the proper etiquette of weaponry
What a ticklish issue
Like a fart ripping through the submarine of gospel
I remember the electric silence of symbiosis
I remember breeds of lapdogs and Chevrolets from the 1970s
The ballpoint pen washed off skin of the hand in question
Curiously infinitesimally groping for clutch of heart
The stoke of origin yielding to fiery furnace core
I remember strangeness behind the familiar walls
Somebody indefinitely waiting out a sentence
The autumnal cluster of small birds fearing
And there were cats whose undivided attention
Included her honor sitting on the toilet seat
A red smear of life becoming livid as the tears fell
I remember her piercing my ear with the needle
Hot from the match dipped straight into smelter pot
And eventually stealing the keys to the flame
Too bad I can't remember her name
Jay Passer is the author of Laugh Until You Scream and The Dog I Fathered. His most recent work appears in 3:AM Magazine, Red Fez, Poetry SuperHighway, Full of Crow, ALBA, Horror Sleaze Trash, and is forthcoming in Calibanonline, June 2011. He is a native of San Francisco.