by Nicole Taylor
Friends call him
and his Hair poem
and about his brain as a toy prize
and it was an awesome tale.
Tip or Die reads the jar on the bar.
Brutal Brutus stickers on the
cannon ball Moe is turning.
Bondage in my Brain reads
another poet, another freeing soul,
not a stealer of words, stories.
You can say fuck you, and it may not mean anything.
Angst not anger to a person.
Why do we get so offended by these words
or the middle finger?
Ashley reads a great tale, poem,
Wanting, and I am.
Instigate the ones I hate,
reads young Nick.
Candace reads, Dead men tell no tales.
in her pale dress reminding me
of the illustrated man, the heavily tattooed man.
Her guy Moe reads, sings
Fertile Floozy, Sea Hag Wench.
Row, row your boat, matey,
with his pirate arr style.
Time to leave soon but the stickers near me read
Never Sleep. Almost Friday. (But it's Monday.)
Breaking Death. Gladiators Eat Fire. (No
Gladiators or Fireeaters Here.) Dumb Free
Liberty For All and No Moral Chords.