who am I kidding?

if you
ever
want to know
pretension

sit in a
fake
clean
irish bar

where
clean
boys
and girls

drink
overpriced
imported
swill

and
go outside
to
smoke

while
you
read
Bukowski

a match made in heaven

high cheeks
nose thin and longish
almost pointed

a mouth
delicate with
teeth playfully dancing
behind a
quick wry smile
smart and beguiling

wide eyes
of a friendly brown
shy yet
direct
softly piercing

surely

some
undeserving
profane
bastard

who will
never understand
the music
of her laugh

or the agony
of her
departing

has her

i pray he finds out
before
it's too late

ignorance is bliss

the dead
are supposed to be
scary
disgusting
something different
than what
he was

he looked
good
young
relaxed
better
than i ever
could remember

i didn't
know what
to do
to say
to feel

so
i didn't
do anything

except stand there

staring
unmoving
numb
to everything

waiting

for what?

i didn't know that either

it's a common thing
that i've noticed
about death

we don't know
shit

and anyone
who says they do
are either
a
fool or
a
liar or
both

but the good news
is
that one day
we will
know
everything

and we won't care

the party

fuck 'em all

i don't need 'em

i've got an internet
connection

broadband, baby

i don't need
anyone else
to publish
me

 i can
share my
genius
wit
wisdom
bullshit

with everyone
because

i
self
publish

genius
ain't it?

except for one
small
detail

a nit, really

while everyone
in the world
with
an internet
connection

can
see me
they
can also
see themselves

and so can
everyone else

the point of the
asshole
who lets who
past the
velvet rope

isn't just to be
an asshole

it's to keep the party
going

everyone hates
the asshole
with the velvet rope

until they're
let through

then they're
so glad
the asshole
is there

how can something be special
if everyone can come
or
everyone can do it?

what you find
is that the only
asshole
that can truly
and always

see
hear
read
appreciate
your genius

is you

alone

inquisition

meow?
a question!

i'm jolted out of
my contemplation
of all things
trivial
and
sublime

what is it, baby?

the cream- colored face pops
up
over the rim
of the tub

rwoar?

sharp fangs gleam
their question
eye slits transformed

into
dark pools

clicks of my tongue
invite the lithe body to
jump up
and strut

lick
paw
nuzzle

the questions continue

answered by more
questions

until
nothing is
left to be
said

with no answers
the figure smoothly
exits

stage right

leaving behind only
a few stray hairs

like we all do

eventually