presented with boxes
one has money and sturdy things
the other, scraps of love affairs
some voodoo doll hairs
and pins, lots of pins
for all my passive aggression
we all lie about who we are
in different ways
the youngsters have a facebook page
the elders lie about their age
with jazzy jeans and botulinum
fixate on the hearts and winnum
or likes, if you like
stay up in the night
fill your self-regarding tank
live your life on holiday
who needs a moral compass
when we have GPS?
who needs pretty insides
when you’re so well-dressed?
i am called to be an ooze or an orb
concurrently called to draw my sword
the visceral solicitor knocks on my door
and asks me what i’m waiting for
Jainist with a heart of fury
I smile sweetly over coffee
I really do care about your story
but I also wonder
about your autopsy
I really do care
I want to be there.