You Want Fries or Cole Slaw With
The Lazy Hermaphrodite
I am a pea rolled around in a pod,
Shook up like parcheesi dice.
The nervous bird that smashes the glass
is not the monkey that pushes the button.
I am play-doh meat grinder spaghetti,
Blown chunks of alphabet soup.
The letters arrange themselves
in omens and portents.
Chicken entrails and pasta can be molded
into some kind of sentient life.
Transmigrating souls with walkmans and soda cans;
Turn the dial to open the forehead,
Poke the left eye for a new window.
I am a pineapple chunk suspended in jello,
Dribbling out of an old mans dentures.
I can create entire worlds with scissors and paper.
I am hurtling sperm bursting endless ovum.
Come on and shuffle my cards;
Topple over my dominoes.
Truth is tempted out of my colon with sour milk,
and thats my own face on the back of the carton.
Looksee? The jacket is reversible.
I was put in the kiln a long time ago
but I never harden.
Love letters and writs of execution
were stuffed under my lid.
Come on and burst my piņata.
Unwrap me and tell me how many licks it takes
to get to the center.
Can you imagine reading the same fucking book
for two thousand years?
Why wait for Halloween? Lets eat
the whole damn thing right now!
If you've any comments on this poem, David Aronson would be pleased to hear from you.