MADE FOR YOU AND ME 1: hive Being (Stanzas 2016—part 35)
Let's workshop this stanza sequence about cock fights, skratching, drug tests, extramarital affairs, connections in solitary confinement, our robotic nature, Trinidadian music, boarded windows
cocks fighting for microwaved boneless chicken wings clean piss from your sister in a condom taped to your inner thigh skratch music is like cilantro shaolin-monk orange; prisoner orange the compliment that is both imitation and dissent not having to speak to complete the team task the urge to regard cynicism as wisdom forging a pregnancy report to get her boyfriend finally to leave “his ashy-ass ho wife” standing on the toilet to whisper poems and chess moves into the air grate for the rapist in the neighboring cell it would be considered ridiculous, downright malevolent, to say—having Goethe or Einstein in mind—“White people are friggin’ awesome” pockets where it is ludicrous to respond, “Scared? But this is our own backyard!” reared to prune her spectral desire into mere being desired (men her prime archetype of thirst), she fantasizes in bed from his eyes: experiencing what it is like not for her to fuck or be fucked by him, but for him to fuck her—her orgasm, rare, left in his hands inside the midtown flat cars pass—crashing waves on the shore eyeballs like hummingbirds hovering flowers— we are fleshy robots plywood nailed up for years after the house window “broke” living on expectation alone—hope for escape into seclusion under the pretense of devotion let the small cares remind us why we belong together: a whispered touch so as not to startle each other at night let the small cares remind us why we belong together: knowing the names of each other’s childhood friends candidates spending billions to get elected as the one sincere about fighting the war on hunger bullied by brothers with a father that never intercedes the bum’s loose-change cup jingle shame tactics of the neurodiversity movement art demanding patient engagement lives on even in our age of dwindling attention spans, which means: lives on less and less engaged still raising comebacks in discussions alone but louder and louder with time, wishing they were voiced years before even if true questioners must be wooers, true questioning need not itself be a wooing; the wooing could have taken place earlier suppressing the urge to flaunt your good luck as a way to flaunt your superiority over such luck still in the shadow of its colonizers, the island delights in the exclusivity of double-entendre: ♫“She only want me fuh card”; “No biting in-sects”♫
This is a portion of an ongoing mosaic poem called Made for You and Me. This portion is from the first installment: hive Being (Stanzas 2016-2020). More specifically, it is from the 2016 portion of that five-part work.
Photo: goodfreephotos.com/albums/animals/birds/two-roosters-fighting.jpg