Saturday, September 30, 2006

Billy Collins Poem #2

“The The” was over but it wasn’t. In Florida there’s a fantastic fuck. In a fantasy there can be a gun goes off and anyone dies. In a fancy hotel fifty years ago. Lighting a cigarette. Licking an ice-cream cone. Getting a blowjob then giving. Admiring the flowers beautifying the island running down the boulevard and we’d have been grateful with just a green relatively free of shit.

The armistice fifty years ago at a fancy hotel in Florida where he got his first blowjob. A rock comes clean. A Poinciana in full bloom flames the shade to a state like sunny. Five hundred miles away a gun went off and no-one died in any official records. After work he bought a pint of coconut ice-cream and once home ate half a cup it on his apartment building’s roof.

When I was in Florida I didn’t see any coconuts not even in a grocery store. I did see cans. I played one with a stick and pretended I was the happiest motherfucker being in a dump. A real one. An egret hustled across a shitty road. I’m not in love with my body but it’s my soul and so I have spent all day pleasuring it and not being productive. I wish he’d stop saying slut.

In Germany the fine for knocking down a yellow jacket nest is up to 50,000 euro.

This one was submitted by A. Strauss