or at least smear my face
with a little bittle rouge
I’m not worried about my body to stop believing I told it so
And too, when you wake up do you remember
the dream I told you?
I owned nothing but a set of plastic clapping hands
Don’t want to be an art collector
Don’t want to own my own damn hands
Just .doc save me on your desktop and leave me there,
shruggin over your Monet saver
When we looked at the painting we just started laughing
The woman with the bigger-than-I-ever-did-see pearls
called us rogues
The sculpture looked like this:
Stomach bubbling over boxers
Wife beater stained beer in hand
You caught up with me & I wiped my fingers
on my wetty eye dribblin
No way of feeling less than bad when you
have the reaction they intended
