The Mutants of Yeovil

 

have come to you from the chilled hell of the doll house
everything perfectly stuck in place like a sitcom set
safe pastel colors the greatest hits of the beatles
celery and potatoes and oat milk in the fridge
pretzels and nutella in the disgustingly organized pantry
and my room the hermitage stuffed with books and me
geriatric at 53 i accepted this grave lack several bitter moons ago
this is it until i die shuffling tarot cards creating loops of noise
staying in a five star hotel once or twice a year
getting excited about ipas and appetizers
collecting vinyl art crystals lipstick books
napping because the dreams are the best part of my life

then i woke up came alive became ecstatic and spastic
in the delicious middle of this maelstrom of desire
a chaos of laughter and tears star splattered correspondence
aquarius woman over the fuck ass rainbow for an aries man
in the words of conway twitty i have never been this far before

you tell me the steps and without question i take them
cum for me check cum for me again check write a poem about us
check get a divorce check come to me in yeovil check

next thing a bitch knows she is shaken and stirred sitting with
her alpha daddy in an italian restaurant in quaint english town
sipping argentina wine watching the genetically fucked freaks
in ill-fitting charity shop garb walk through the door as if
they deserve the same joy we have claimed without shame
or reservation because saturn has favored us forever

it’s spring and i am feverish with this as trees spit blossoms
and seagulls appear in front of the grape tree where we buy
fruit jellies and various healthy things with paper money
featuring the queen and the king who is a scorpio but that is
not our problem and finally home which is mostly this bed
you placing gold stars on my left nipple
watching blood simple
our story without the guns and shitty music