Small plastic tigers

Alone, up and out and at an easily definable GPS point
on the morally hardly defensible landscape of America
I sit sweating ethanol, rest of mind lotusly waiting for buddha
or Sheldon B. Kopp or the dripping cunt of my
hilariously pretty angry lover
or a clown like any US senator not from your state.
Of course but this time Kentucky.

I watch a lizard.
feeding on the sun.
Eating the warmth of the sun.
I don't think politix.
I dream shutting my eyes being a boy
stealing small tigers, whores for kids, at 5 bucks.

The shopkeeperreta punishes me eye to eye but
doesn't call the police. I lick her , her down there,

Small plastic tigers are expensive
the way I steal them.


I sit in the sand of the desert.
The foreskin of my heart winks at Jenna Jameson.
The lizard moves,
he smiles once a year,
but only at me.