whenever i see a worm
i feel like ten years of my life was taken
i used to be okay with them
but now apparently not
they seem to look gross
i cant seem to be not afraid of it
then i loose my cool
and start freaking out
this is why i hate worms
The deluge came without warning,
too fast for it to seep underground.
So, they broke the soil for a taste of rain
and openly met the flood.
They cinched towards exposed surfaces
only asking for more.
So quickly, it was as if
their bloated bodies were ripped from the soil
and thrown to the sidewalk.
They littered the pathways.
A mass suicide in pink.
Blue agave, spiny like the desert cacti,
once fermented in the mesquite barrels of Jalisco, Mexico,
is now manifest in the liquid smoke of my Tequila bottle.
By the third shot, I think I'm in love with the gusano,
the red caterpillar people mistake for a worm, pickling
intact, attesting to the purity of the holy spirits.
I shake the bottle and the worm falls like the fresh powder
in my Montreal snowglobe of an ice skater,
the globe's Christmas melody replaced by La Cucaracha
playing convivially on my mind's soundtrack
(in a bit in a rut because I've forgotten the second stanza).
The worm has hit bottom, and so have I.
I don't take this an ominous portent,
but as a sign it's time to ditch the glass
and drink straight from the bottle.
It's 1 am and I'm calling you .
Hating that bitch at the end of the line reciting " the person you have reached ..."
Is never available right now.
I feel so alone gripping the phone ,
I can't call you so late anymore .
Wanting to burn into you that
You are mine .
And everyone who touched you before is a fucking lie .
Across the street ,
The town .
The states .
I hate all of them right now .
And I know that this is
But it sucks that you were the first for me and I wasn't for you .
The abuser ,
The space filler ,
Now the Grecian pillar .
Hating classical way that
The years rubbed off the emotion from the chisel marks .
And you're like before my hands , and mouth and eyes .
My eyes ....
Always searching for yours .
In an empty room of the two of us still fucking searching for yours .
But maybe I am the first ,
And that's why I a prototype
Am still here . ™
Wobbly was wondering?
"What will we wager"
We will wrangle worms
"Winner wins whatever"
We wondered, why wrangle
Which wacko would wager wrong,
Wobbly winked, wondering why,
Wanda waited wondering why?
Would worms win wagers
Without watching weird worms
Which was wonderfully weird,
What would Wanda want?
Wobbly wandered, waiting
Wanda's wise words whispered, wobbly
With wonderment,what was whispered?