Ice Cream, You Scream

Cinco
de Mayo


worm
in my apple


i'm
going
to sleep
my way to the middle


what with,
plan A

in the toilet
and all


on Sunday
(quatro de mayo)


I was on Sullivan
Street thinking
of
that Bridgette Bardot
poem
by Chinaski
where he says
"running through
an arcade of roses
and screaming"


that's practically childhood
in a nutshell


and it makes me insane
its so pretty


I mean, it really
strangles you


with beauty


i plucked cigarettes
like daisy petals from
the box


(to kill the suspense of life)


and
skip to dessert


(lovesmenot.the end)


Dracula
you've got
ketchup
on your shirt,


I've been waking
up in the dark
cool
night


with memories


that come back
of
all those
lovers


like a ski mask
in a horror

flick


even from behind
after


I shot them
dead.


I don't know what I'd
ask you
now


Can you imagine
Sylvia Plath
in math class


or Bukowski on a Mac


(me neither)


there's a sorbet
named
"berried alive"
and
I like that


I was thinking
all
this

while I stood
in line


at Starbucks


& listened
to all the
white women


bitch about their
lattes


yes, that was
right about the time



I came back from
the dead


cheerleaders

in my spine &



ringing telephones and


I can't wait to
see your
face


again.


I don't want to be

your
Yoko Ono,


I want to be


your
Maria Callas,

stupid.