nobody ever got slapped over my alopecia
punked on april fools day
caught up in the monkeyshines
of my aspirational barber
joelinton’s barber
i booked my appointment
for the most anticipated haircut
since my hair grew back
from stress-induced alopecia
still in recovery, me
from the rudeness of strangers
from inappropriate staring
comments like
‘you need a better barber’ and
‘what kind of cancer is that, bro’
yes, it bothered me
not enough to slap a man, tho
truth be told
maybe i’m the foolish one
‘cos this tidbit proper boils my piss
at ten a.m. sharp, standing
outside the barbershop
ten thousand monkeys in my fist
looking for a bitch to slap
but the joke was me
next time i will just let it fly
I pulled my intercostal muscle pre-drinking for the football match
over too-small margaritas with not enough tequila
waiting on pork enchiladas from a too-slow kitchen.
I considered my physical need to sneeze in a post-pandemic restaurant
versus the social fallout of such a spectacle.
I don’t even know these people, but they are human beings and deserve
not to be sprayed at close range with someone else’s aerosols.
the sneeze came on hard but I shut it down,
sparing some nuns and their triple-cheese nachos a blast of sputum
through no small feat of physical exertion.
I am not a young man anymore. unable now
to absorb the brute force of unrequited energy with my porous ribcage.
the pain remains, sharp but tolerable.
I feel it in the night when I’m sleeping or when I cough, or blow my nose
that persistent throbbing deep in my core.
when it’s healed I will still feel the ache
like an echo in a warehouse, taking up the empty space.
the less you know the better you sleep
Vladimir Putin in judo bathrobe
all smirk and tinkle
riding on his high horse
sidesaddle
to Dresden because
all roads lead to Dresden
when all you read is Vonnegut
you should be here now
in this karaoke bar
where the bright-eyed dictator
sings blueberry hill
to captive air-hostesses with
veneered smiles
hair in shellacked buns
standby as we plunge headfirst
into a new world order of
Flipper songs in TV commercials
Salvador Dali in a car chase
on the San Marino freeway
singing LIFE
is the only thing worth living for
and when nothing is left
we find ourselves
begging for an ounce
of common decency
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