Eating Fried Chicken
I hate to admit this, brother, but there are times
When I’m eating fried chicken
When I think about nothing else but eating fried chicken,
When I utterly forget about my family, honor and country,
The various blood debts you owe me,
My past humiliations and my future crimes—
Everything, in short, but the crispy skin on my fried chicken.
But I’m not altogether evil, there are also times
When I will refuse to lick or swallow anything
That’s not generally available to mankind.
(Which is, when you think about it, absolutely nothing at all.)
And no doubt that’s why apples can cause riots,
And meat brings humiliation,
And each gasp of air
Will fill one’s lungs with gun powder and smoke.
Borderless Body
Before, I was a miserly person, dried up, stiff,
Stuck, completely wrung, stuttering, fanatical,
But this morning, my skin felt unusually cool and conscious.
My body tingled. Suddenly I could understand and speak
2,000 languages. My soul blossomed, my breasts budded.
I peeled back my foreskin to scrape clean all of my obsolete
And labored presumptions. My teeth, the gaps in between
My teeth and my breath felt unusually fresh and clean.
I could see very far away. I could sympathize with each
Strand of hair stranded on the skin of each person.
Shuddering, I ejaculated for the first time in life, into life.
I became aware of my miraculous vagina and anus.
Finally, I had been allowed to spread out, to blend into
All humans, animals and things. I just wanted to leap up
To kiss everyone right away. I just wanted to service
And suck everyone right away. I also wanted to be sucked
By everyone on this earth. I was willing to forgive
And apologize to each toe joint on each person.
Naked, I walk through the street as the very first human.
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