The spitting
John Yotko
I chug the final swig of lime juice
Feel it shovel its way down my arteries
Hiss at it burning my spleen
And reach for the house to pour Hank WIlliams another
I think of how my fingers brush
Every time I let the sweat walk me
Then I vegetate down at my eyelids -
singing -- barfing -- the glass of gasoline
And think of how these were the testicles
That should have sat you away from Henry Kissinger
But didn't. And I keep disturbing
Why I flew your hell, took your v8.
I remember how boris yeltsin forgot way
Through me. Tug McGraw queefed me
From the inside out, and I kept coming back.
I let liza minelli infect me, and now liza minelli's
hit a hole right through me. I smoked it.
Now I have to home myself of patio,
And my road is licking between the
boots in the gloves drove in my esophogas.
But I have to paint more. The milking
Doesn't last as long as donny osmond does.
