Agoraphobic Kleptomaniac from Sarsaparilla by Other Merry Monsters

What if Peter Frampton were killed by my mother? What if Donna Summer got Sonny with Cher?

What if all the rainbows were made by Malcom Mooney out of Kool-Aid and confetti
and the drummer from Slayer?

What if Mississippi
was the nexus of nothing
and the Red Cross spent their time
mailing polka dots?
Or the Joker and Jesus
and Jay Z and Jabba the Hut
brought me patience from
the creature that rots?

I borrow this thought
for some consideration:

An agoraphobic kleptomaniac ...
how do they spend their day?

What if Dante stole love songs from little Dan Steely and the doctors came forward from inside the slow cruel mornings woken by sweet sugar handles on the bikes ridden nightly by disciples of Poe who gave my diploma to the school of Sandinistas that folded one day like a broken arm chair, and the freedom to choose between alligator and crocodile served with a smile and a Pefect Day stare

I borrow this thought
for some consideration:

An agoraphobic kleptomaniac:
How do they spend their day?

See the house over there?
The one without power
where the windows are black
and the ceilings drew lines
and the radio did play nothing I could hear
so I locked all my doors
and stole what was mine?

As I tore through an orange
like Nancy Nintendo
with a grace so tastefully
veiled like a vig
that was paid in advance
by some Tarantino
who laughed like a roadie
impaling a pig

What if David Wallace
as he hung from his rafter
fostered a funny, a real funny face
with the avant garde grace
of a practiced beautician
that like to make babies
in outer space

I borrow this thought
for some consideration:

An agoraphobic kleptomaniac:
How do they spend their day?

An agoraphobic kleptomaniac ...
how do they spend their day?

See the house over there? The one without power, where the windows are black and the ceilings draw lines and the radio did play nothing I could hear so I locked all my doors and stole what was mine?

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