How do I look darling?
Everybody is a drag queen in life
manicured in silky garbs
or wax museum faces
to suffocate their inner skin.
On the morning train
you carry an empty leather briefcase
crammed to overflow with lies
sat next to other men with heads hung low.
The smell of your lunchbox makes you wretch
as you unwrap another white bread sandwich-
canned pig hiding under shotgun cheese-
spill that crumb trail to your place in life.
Screwed up New Year’s resolutions
in the breast pocket of your dinner suit
that hasn’t been worn for years,
and doesn’t fit
unless you squeeze out like pus.
Seed already spread before you’re dead
so you can smile watching reality TV-
call the premium number and vote vicarious.
Reduced to yelling from the sidelines
at football games and strip bar shenanigans.
Have another shot, adjust your makeup.
To kill a mockingbird
I tried to walk on water for you.
My feet made star-shaped ripples
as I started to sink.
You spent the entire time smirking
and scrolling on your phone.
You didn’t even raise your head
when I stopped my hearts beat
to create suspense like an orchestra;
My only attention was a grasshopper
on a single green blade
rubbing his legs together in anticipation,
but his love song was for another.
The male mockingbird is a more prolific singer.
It yearns for attention,
mimicking the sound of anything.
Somebody look at me.
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