Stereo rumble of
golly good-golly
plunges through
pungence and pundits,
hassling the barkeep and
rekindling Floridian
romances from
high school and earlier,
the kindergarten crushes your
sister instructed you to have,
the grade school teacher and
mother figure whose
generous hugs you
pathetically craved to the
point of inventing sadness,
inventing discord and
loneliness, perfecting the
bitter art of nostalgia
at the age of 7
in return for
long breastful hugs from
the older woman.
You thus began your
lifetime of pithy lies,
your unexamined art of
falsely claiming
ignorance to matters of
life-changing importance,
your poisonous selfishness
littering the
ground beneath you with
tears of bodily fluids
believed by science to be
extinct but which
boil like acid on the
surface of your skin and
which creep like an
artificial slime through the
bedrooms of your life.