And now I say goodnight
To a surprisingly cheerful day
Filled with the discovery and hope
That comes with Fajita Friday

Alice and I were fudged fruiting inside Falstaffian freakish fleur–de–lys:
She inside a quack–aztec–tattooed tank,
Me inside a pendulous magenta harness with polydactyl–perverted plumes bespattered into it.  
In the ****** **** of that kaput flophouse
We creosoted our conks all the cockatrices of the gorge–de–pigeon,
Inside crotches, Jacuzzis and homocentric Action Men.  
Alice, with the pornographic bend sinisters in the teeth of her poltergeistish fajita crocodile,
Smacked of the plug–ugly poofter of a south–south–west by south sackful sandbank.  
I cemented the jaundiced dangler of an ostrich to my *****.  
With that and my uncut fiddlestick of knobs
I was the idiosyncratic and wholehogging sadomasochistic slapper!

We banged the bush streaming proboscis in tentacle
Through smorgasbords of hermaphrodites and high muck–a–mucks
While Ravi Shankar’s idioglossias and cockchafers juddered our titbits.  
Our Moonies were classically cracked flabelliform by the time we disinterred them.  
Alice managed to fornicate incognito white elephant on behalf of myself
And we were passionately on the back of the dingdong, naked as our Moonies.

We kept one’s pecker up wrapped up in the shadowgraph
Athwart ever-strangling girdles of formaldehyde, ozone, fomenter and widow’s weeds,
Athwart polytetrafluoroethylene–pricked precipices and then down to the butts
Where we both came to a sticky end on our jockstraps and leered at the ballet dancers
That we then penetrated rhythmically by elongating tumescent our gang banging tentacles.  
Through comfortable French knickers I burped, “Thank you for ****** me everywhere, Alice”.  
In the soporific honeypotspunk, aped on the ooze,
I could smell that her **** had made her ******* type soap flakes break the sound barrier,
Splashing out a ***** whale seed skirting her jowls.  
“You’re fragrant, flypaper”, she rapped.

The Government gabble that little green men who hammer out the sexagenarians weren’t on board.  
Inside spleen of the spliffs, inside spleen of my gangrenous Pollyanna, I will over one’s dead body evacuate.  
I will over one’s dead body evacuate.

I was just thinking about lyfe and my mind decided to run away and come up with some weird questions. Here they are!

If you were a squid, what would your favorite kind of muffin be?

If you were a riptide sqiud what would your----OSTRICH ATTACK!!!!




OH NO! Sorry. Just got attacked by an un-adhesified ostrich. I will continue now.


If you were a riptide squid, would you have a white car?

If you were a cat what would be your favourite type of human?

If you were a Cat food truck driver, on a scale of 1-10, how tasty would you consider yourself to be?

What would your reaction be if you were at your favorite restaurant and suddenly a dolphin wearing a fake mustache as a disguise, and eating a fajita appeared on your head and began to tap dance while singing twinkle twinkle little star in a high opera voice?

is covered in tattoos and
likes to drink expensive whiskey
with mint leaves
and fruit slices in it.

She has the strong, sturdy body
of a field worker and is the only
woman I know who looks good
in bright orange.

We share fajitas and
chimichangas while
listening to indie folk music.

She pushes her stomach out
and asks me to
name her fajita baby.

Her mastiff eats from the trash
while we wrestle and scream
because he knows this
is his only chance
at leftover rice
and guacamole.

Her face is the
last breath of Christ
and she tells me
she hates me
while pushing me off
of her
after I make her come.

The dog and I
both know the truth.

Portobello mushrooms washed and gilled
sprinkle salt and pepper and a little dill
slice a chicken breast, into strips that are thin
bell peppers and onions, go on the grill with them

Chile powder, cumin and garlic, minced
against these flavors, there is really no defense
mental trip to Mexico, dining on the street
relive vacation through smells, isn't that neat

Sauté until the chicken is just cooked through
put this on the 'shroom, in a pan with a little brew
on the top sprinkle a large amount of cheese
cheddar, or mont'y jack, whatever kind you please

Pop this in the oven at 350 degrees
ten minutes, the smell will begin to tease
you will know its done, when the cheese is golden brown
put it on a plate, pour a margarita, and chow down.

Note: Due to formatting issues, I'm unable to provide the correct version of this poem. It was created using text messages, then striking information in the manner of redacted documents. However, that option is not able to be shown on this site. In order to get around this, I'm providing the non-redacted messages for reference. This is not so much a poem, as it is an experimentation with the dissection of language. As a result, part 2 (and That's Worth The Way We Are) has had the post-redaction words removed and placed in a more traditional structure. For the real version, feel free to reach out to me.  - Rollie

“If you ever make your way to Chicago I would love to be your tour guide.”
“I’m sure a tour or something will land there soon enough, so maybe we can go. Also, I stopped at Bell Rd. Dutch and it gave me flashbacks to first driving way out here to hang out with you. So thanks for still knowing me.”
“Thank you for still knowing me. It still shocks me that you’ve managed to stick around with me being how I am.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot.”
“About what?”
“Why you care about me. But you don’t have to go into it.”
“That’s actually something I don’t ever mind talking about. I suppose if you want me to be succinct, then it’s because deep down I don’t think I ever had a choice in the matter.”

“I was worried this one for sure was the time you had decided you hated me. I suppose it still could be ha.”
“I don’t hate you. I’m just stupid and need to stop getting into depressive episodes and stop talking to everyone I know.”
“What caused the depressive episodes? If it’s ok that I ask that is.”
“Living where I do and having things I cared for in this dismal place go to ****. I hate where I’m at now, but at least have my dogs and Fajita.”

“I dreamt about this last night, so I figured I should do it in real life too. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you leave again most recently. I hope you stay back this time, and if I’m ******* up please tell me so I can remedy it.”
“It’s nothing you did. It’s 100% me.”

“Want to know what I think about when I’m stressed at work?”
“What’s that?”
“When I came back to Arizona, and you knocked on the door. I was so nervous to open it. But then when I did, you were there. And you just hugged me. And I felt safe.”

“Want to know something?”
“Yes I do.”

“Seeing your name pop up on my social media and text alerts. It really makes me smile.”

“I really have missed you.”
“I didn’t think you’d come back to my life this time. You have no idea how scared I was.”
“I’m sorry I put you through that dear. You are always good to me. I’m the one who is bad.”
“I don’t like it when you call yourself bad or say mean things toward yourself.”
“Well in this case it’s true.”
“Well you were worth the wait. I really hope we can see each other in person at some point soon.”
“I’m hoping March. I like spending my birthday with you.”

“I have a question.”
“What’s that?"
“What made you come back to my life?”

“I never wanted to leave, I just felt I should.”
“Why though? Like what made it happen? It’s got to be more than just the logistics of distance.

“It’s all on me and the way my brain works. I don’t know what happened. I just know I went to a dark place. I haven’t been actually happy here in a long time.”
“Well then I’ll make sure you’ve always got a happy place to return to here.”

“I’d have liked to talk about some things in person instead, but on the off chance I don’t wake up some day, I just wanted to say that I really do miss you and I love you as well. Sorry for everything.”
“I love you and miss you too. I always will.”
“I hope so.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t ruin a thing. You exist and I somehow met you. That alone is a miracle I’ll be forever thankful for.”

“I’m really really thankful that when things were at their worst, it never went too far and I didn’t have to bury you. I couldn’t have done it. So thank you for being so strong.”


“You don’t need to thank me for that. I need to thank you for being there for me and helping me through it so I didn’t get to that point.”
“Do me a favor and please outlive me.”
“I can’t promise you that.”
“Then promise to never forget me.”
“I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

“I always tell my friends how much I want to go back to Arizona because it feels like Home and it’s where I’m happiest.”

“Can I ask something?”
“Of course.”
“What happened? Like with everything? I’m ready to hear it and think it would help me sleep.”
“I got in my own head and started feeling extremely depressed so I isolated myself and when I started getting attention locally, I went with it because I was weak and stupid. I was ****** to you and you didn’t deserve it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Or at least talk about it? We could have talked through things.”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Do you know how hard it is to watch from afar?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Did you forget me? Why did you come back?“
"I didn’t forget you. Not once. I was selfish and gave in to the easier option.”
“Then that means you had to have done everything you did while still thinking about me. That’s dark to look at.”
“I was thinking about myself because I’m selfish and awful.”
“Do you understand why it’s hard for me to believe you loved me?”
“I do understand why you feel that way. I’m so sorry. But I did love you. I still do. It was problems with myself. Nothing you did.”
“What problems were those?”
“I’m dodgy and afraid of commitment and make problems for myself. Like things are going amazingly well, so some part of my brain is like
“Hey **** this up.”.”
“It doesn’t seem like you’re afraid of it though.”
“I think I’m not, but when it gets too real I run. I honestly don’t know why I’m like this and I know me saying that doesn’t give you answers and I’m so sorry. I think I’m just a weak human. I’m not strong like you. If you need me to stay away just tell me.”
“No. That’s not what I wanted. Even in my darkest hell, I never stopped loving you.”
“I don’t care how bad it seems. I never stopped loving you either.”

“I wish I could make food for you.”
“I’d cook for you too babe. I make a mean fajita. I miss you a lot.”
"ARE YOU SAYING YOU’RE GOING TO COOK MY CAT?!”
“I would never do such a thing! That’s out of context!”
“Haha, But really I’d love to cook for you or have you cook for me. I miss you too. So much.”
“Come home.”
“I will. I promise babe.”

all that's audible is a bumping into:
  **** me... i hope that isn't a giraffe
or a london singleton, female: "looking"
but a chair...
       and the rest of my narrative became
sorta blurry...
i hope i bumped into a chair rather than a
giraffe...
funny thing, this would be model
started chirpsing (scottish term for flirting)
with me... allowing me the role of santa claus
sitting on my legs in a bar...
a day before this south african ***** "*****"
me without **** juices...
        like cedric the saxon conquering
the isles...
- thing is... i can understand the scots...
the other gaelic tribes... the irish?
i can't tell a doberman from a rottweiler;
i don't like them, and i'm not even english.
the **** are they on?
                  well, tango in the dark...
is it a chair? is it a giraffe?!
                      i thank god for the fact that
i can experience this sort of joke
   and not bother raising a family, in accordance
with the sage of Königsberg...
            really "strange" things happens when you
enjoy drinking, up to the point where
   you're laughing over robbie williams' videos
in the afternoon, and say: ******* day!
and try, i mean, torture yourself, utilise
the iron maiden to get laughs out of women...
ellen degeneres (e.g.) - i tried, i really, really tried
laughing at the jokes...
                                    robbie's dead and i'm
consecrating a prayer on his grave, like people
congregating in cultish fashion over the grave of
jim morrison in paris... hell! i'm trying!
don't put my ******* in the monkey-wrench!
            i need to feed the ego-go-go!
              what ******* ****** you looking at?
your cousin?
                            i know my cousins are retarted:
like i already said: they tried to **** me so many
times due to my Chernobyll tattoo i starting to ask:
this really is a foetus contra.
                             or what you teach your colt...
unless she calls you up and says: i think i'm pregnant...
oi! descartes! i think therefore i doubt...
doubt being the emotional content precipitating
into             i am, therefore... wha?!
            maybe it's just like they said: women aren't
*****...
                           i really really tried to laugh
at ellen degeneres jokes...
       hmm...                     i realised i wasn't constipated
having eaten almost nothing on the day...
i fancied a hoi sin fajita (fa-he-tah... not a fa-jee-tah)
         wrap of duck from the supermarket...
         but i really though i was constipated...
sat on the throne of thrones expecting a ****...
       all i "plopped" out was alkaline lemonade...
          but **** me can the chinese butcher the duck
properly...
                             the sort of atheists i believe in:
a. they'll eat anything                   and
    b. they don't believe any other species exists apart
            from them.
c.? the ******* bit that adds to an advantage?
                    men take joy from work, women take
joy from ***... it's not that ******* difficult...
                            the chinese can really butcher a duck...
hoi sin duck... it's like bbq sauce...
                                      eating cat treats instead of
haribo... i want to keep my teeth like
those skeletal excavations from the iron age
          in the alps...
                                but ****! i really want to laugh
at a joke a women tells... whether on the concrete savannah
of the urban environment... or stand-up on stage!
i really want to!
                            i really can't! is that sad?
a women telling a joke is like a woman in her
late teens asking a man in his early twenties about
how to fry a pancake!
               and it's happened to me! i had to tell these
teen women how to fry a pancake...
               they tried frying about five, and all of them
ended up being burned... and i just said:
    you have to add oil to the goo-dough... and then
add oil to the frying pan...
           what has fat-free yogurt done to these women?!
you can't find yourself your body expecting
pseudo-sugars all the time! you need fat!
                           oh this is in privy...
                   ever ****** off a pregnant woman showcasing
her ****? pinching her *******... ENLARGED...
                and: if i were married, i'd ask my woman:
can i suckle on that too? i don't want the baby to
get in the way with our love life...
             it's like this cult of the north north
in the antonio banderas the 13th warrior...
                        cult of the pregnant woman? something
the neo-pagans carve into stone, rather than
the classical pagans with phallus etched into wood...
       i really did watch a pregnant woman tease...
   i just felt like rubbing the ******* ("luxury")
                         and looking at her teasing me
with her extra-large *******...
                biology would state: imagine the foetus!
imagine the foetus! look at her enlarge "stomach"!
i thought we were pro-feminism?!
                     a pregnant woman doesn't get you
bullish ready for a torero?
                                i'm single and i'm about to
fiddle with a pregnant woman!
                                   and she's all the more ready
given she's posting videos on the internet
with her head decapitated from view...
                 i mean: a pregnant woman is not
the high-tide of *******, among other things?!
              i hate being an eroto-maniac, but given i
am drinking and walked in the dark and
                           though i bumped into a giraffe,
that was actually a chair...
                        what else? trying to find a woman
stand-up comedian funny?
         a pregnant woman playing with her *******
and imagining ******* at her ******* when the milk
comes to rekindle the *** prior child...
   it's easier to get a hard-on from that:
than a laugh from a woman doing stand-up comedy.

Portobello mushrooms, I use them all the time
No matter how topped they always taste just fine
From cream cheese and crab to chicken fajita
No matter what you just want to eat ‘em

Philly beef cheesesteak, they’ve also been topped
So many possibilities, I’ll never stop
Bleu cheese and steak makes a hell of a filling
Portobello themed restaurant, I’d make a killing

Chicken Alfredo, or coconut shrimp
How about spinach artichoke dip
Turkey and dressing or how about pulled pork
You’d want to eat those with your fingers or fork

Taco, or nacho, or enchilada
How it gets better, I got zip, zilch, and nada
Or I don’t know how about spinach frittata
You could go Greek, lamb, feta, and Kalamata

Mediterranean, flavored quinoa or couscous
So many options, man just turn me loose
Lemon pepper, scallops, or Oyster Rockefeller
Or Chicken Rice saffron, it would be yeller

At this point, I feel like Bubba from Forrest Gump
Going on about toppings, oh well over the ****
Buffalo Chicken or Asparagus turkey parm
Just about anything you can get at the farm

Goes great on a mushroom I think you can see
Most people wouldn’t, but, hey they’re just not me

“If you ever make your way
I would love to be your guide.”
“Something will land soon
so maybe we can,
thanks for still knowing me.”
“Thank you for still knowing me.
It still shocks me that you’ve managed
to stick around with me
being how I am.”

“I’ve been thinking.”
"About?”
“Why you care. But
don’t go into it.”

“I don’t suppose
I ever had
a choice in the matter”

“This was the time you hated me. still could be.”
“I just need to stop talking”

“What caused it?”
“Living where I do
this dismal place
I hate where I’m at now”

“Last night,
I figured I should do it
Tell you I’m sorry for what made you leave
I hope you stay this time.”

“Want to know what I think about when I’m stressed at work?”
“What’s that?”
“When I came back
and you knocked on the door.
And I felt safe.”

“Seeing your name makes me smile.”
“I really have missed you.”
“I didn’t think you’d come back,
“You have no idea how scared I was.”
“You are always good to me. I’m the one who is bad.”
“I don’t like it when you say mean things toward yourself.”
“Well in this case it’s true.”
“I really hope we can see each other”
“I like spending my birthday with you.”

“I never wanted to leave, I just felt I should.”
“Why?
It’s got to be more than just the logistics of distance.”
“I went to a dark place.
I haven’t been actually happy here in a long time.”
“You’ve always got a happy place to return to.”

“I’d have liked to talk in person
but on the chance
I don’t wake up some day, I just wanted to say that I love you.”
“I love you and miss you too. I always will.”
“I hope so.”
“You exist and I somehow met you.
I’ll be forever thankful.”

“I’m really really thankful
I didn’t have to bury you.”
“I need to thank you for
helping me through it.”

“Please outlive me.”
“I can’t promise you that.”
“Then promise to never forget me.”
“I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

“What happened? I’m ready to hear.”
“I got depressed
isolated
started getting attention locally, I went with it because
you didn’t deserve it.”

“Why didn’t
we
talk.”

“I don’t know.”
“Did you forget me?“
"I didn’t forget.
Not once.”

“I was thinking about myself.”
“It’s hard to believe you loved me.”
“But I did love you. I still do.”

“I make problems for myself,
when it gets too real I run.
I know
that doesn’t give
answers and I’m so sorry.
I’m not like you.
If you need me to stay away just tell me.”

“No. Even in my darkest hell, I never stopped loving you.”
“I don’t care how bad
it seems. I never stopped
loving you either.”

“I wish I could make food for you.”
“I’d cook for you too babe. I make a mean fajita. I miss you a lot.”
“ARE YOU SAYING YOU’RE GOING TO COOK MY CAT?!”
“I would never do such a thing! That’s out of context!”
“Haha, But really I’d love to cook for you or have you cook for me. I miss you too. So much.”
“Come home.”
“I will. I promise babe.”

Bubba and Cedric, fire up the pit,
throwin’ shade and talking ****,
Javier shows up with fajita,
mesquite smoke runs off **** mosquitos.

Red hots sizzle and skins wide split,
beer so cold, my hands frostbit,
chicken thighs, marinated in dill,
next to it onions and peppers grill.

Thin strips of beef, crackle, and pop
Bill pulls up, he's a cop,
grins and says we’re being too loud,
opens up a beer and joins the crowd.

Music pumping, Master P, and Hank Jr.
everybody is dancing, even Aunt Petunia,
walking a circle when the cumbia plays,
this is turning into a hell of a day.

It's time to eat, ****, forgot tortillas,
no, we didn’t here comes Maria,
brought some for us, all homemade,
washing it down with moonshine lemonade.

Time for dessert, what do we got?
apple cobbler, in the crock ***,
Kita made cake, better than ***,
moon pies in a box, brought by Dex.

The sun dips low but not the tunes,
too much fun, nobody leaving soon,
drinking and dancing and telling jokes,
cigars come out, time to smoke.

Sun coming up, it’s time to go,
night never stopped its awesome flow,
bleary eyed and sleepy as hell,
let's go home and sleep a spell.