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This is the number god gave me.
I see it nightly as I work
original as in the portfolio
posing by ocean desert skies
war plutocracy rape fantasy success
and I'm like Yeah no surprise
I vacuum in my underwear
and pretend the artworks tilted
odd angles by earthquakes
mean something new
(and I've heard you go crazy that way)
because it doesn't happen to anyone
without vanity, a good hairdresser
a townhouse behind the airport a
nd a millionaire nerd
who poses as confessor
sunny Fridays when coffee and a paper
lets down dreams of Monte Carlo, 1953
and a lime-green Lamborghini
tearing up the cherry roads, life at stake
mind bent on sky-high slices
of coconut cake
or New York nights a zebra mask defines me
as I peek at magazines on optometry
at the end of the all-night pharmacy
with 5 good friends and money to blow
on Earth, as it is in need
of a good bra
and someone who gets it.
Beauty is as lucky as amazing
which somehow makes my life more mine
than if it mattered I acknowledge you. Anyhow
can you see who I am?
My life is not determined by the answer
but I wonder nonetheless. Yes?
Well I'll take a McDonald's apple pie and no memory--
did I forget you last Friday?--
nothing but a number.
It begins with 123.
2019