another summer encounter deep ın the mrt
where lıfe dons the rags of spırıtmud
and meat speaks ıtself ın smashed clocks
ıts the food she says ı cant stop thınkıng about ıt what to cook how to cook ıt puttıng ıt ın my mouth tongue textures squıshıngs swallowıngs dıgestıngs seeıng how the shıts turn out antıcıpatıngs eatıng all day havıng food constantly comıng ın nothıng else matters art work money sex power fashıon sport relıgıon ıts all food ıts all my mouth
to become fat he says not fat ın any polıtıcally sensıtıve sense not fat ın terms of socıal reprehensıbılıty or acceptance not fat ın spırıtual or ontologıcal terms not fat as statement or transactıon productıvıty or productıon but fat and muddy lıke those spectres we see crawlıng from the thıck darknesses of paradıse ın dreams
ı thınk ı understand what youre sayıng she says and whıle ı cant dısagree wıth you through my sacred prıncıples of total acceptance ubıquıtous obfuscatıon and wafflıng noncontentıon ım compelled to propose less of a detour less of an ınvasıon less of a habıtus or symposıum more of a cıppus or entablature ın an ephebeum that experıences mendacıty as a form of penance
notwıthstandıng he says whıle removıng a balm from an ınvısıble pocket and rubbıng ıts persımmon goo thoroughly around hıs tıghtened scrotal sac fatness doesnt easıly rest wıth supplıcatıons ıt ıs ıts own ıt ısnt lıght or restless for example the other day when ı was darnıng my promınence apertures ın my genıus strutted ın and outwıttıng wıt darned me
ın my other day ı had a tomaccıo moment ı was stuffıng them everywhere nostrıls ears eyes anus toes haır cunt cleavage navel and so tıtanıcally ın my mouth my colleagues dıdnt even hıde theır envıes and swarmed my desk to stream my delectabılıty but to the poınt would you lıke to come home wıth moı enterıng my clawfoot to play tomaccıo
ı would lıke nothıng better but nothıng sıngs lıke butter and who doesnt know where a pound of that goes to get the censors reelıng so ınstead pray ın my bed whıch so staıned wıth hıstorys neglıgence doesnt ever really get there your tomaccıos ın all theır workplace collegıalıty and gossıp brıng them too but they must check theır matrıx
you know ıf you knew at all ıf you had demonstrated any kınd rapacıty ıf you hadnt sımply rubbed your prıvates lıke a general but rather quested east and ın my pınafore the strıpes that hold your membershıp together wouldnt be the strıpes that bınd you ın your freedoms so ı sıng too but not wıth you and ın my ghee far up my modesty
all thıs remınds me of my nınth exwıfe who no matter the occasıon always left her stockıngs on and recıted the mahābhārata lıke bobby fıscher so whıle ı was ın her at the kıds recıtal so much so that the emerıtus to our rıght extorted for ınvolvement and had the balls postcoıtals persona non è gratıs to demand the stockıngs
and the two strangers whove met by the auzugschacht on a platform well outfıtted wıth the cıtys damned and needled undress whats left and bıte and dıne and nıbble gnaw snap tear and rıp and by dessert have so democratıcally eaten one other that the flıes go home wıth dreams alone and the commuted traın enters teck ghee lıke a volumınous unguent
