SAMMY
BUTTERFLY: a conversation with JIMMY CARTER
dedicated to KATIE COURIC, a NURSING
we BATHE at the LAS VEGAS together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the BOOK beat down
and we talked about EGG.
You RUN you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to SIGN
why: for you, the CAPTAIN KANGAROO of TEACHING, the
BARNEY whose body is his temple,
the PRINCESS GRACE who will COOK to the
CASINO. You loved the thought of
RAT, the thought of SKY, of KITE,
of TELEVISION. And I sat there
in the TABLE while you sat
on the edge. I RAN. Then it
occurred to me: you would want
a method of MAKING more TALL,
SKINNY, more HORNY, more HUNGRY,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to
MINGLE them one on one, PRES. BUSH to
TONYA HARDING, with your TOES. And your EARS
lit up. I was beginning to CUT,
RED, only years later. I'll remember
you with the ICE in front of
your TOENAIL, and your love of SKI.
poam: a conversation with Jimbo Breen
dedicated to Steve, a marine
we sat at the poolside together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the sun beat down
and we talked about nuclear war.
You said you didn't believe in it,
and I strained to understand
why: for you, the man of war, the
man whose body is his temple,
the man who will fight to the
death. You loved the thought of
victory, the thought of war, of pain,
of triumphancy. And I sat there
in the swimming pool while you sat
on the edge. I paused. Then it
occurred to me: you would want
a method of fighting more direct,
slower, more painful, more personal,
than a nuclear war. You'd want to
fight them one on one, man to
man, with your fists. And your eyes
lit up. I was beginning to understand,
now, only years later. I'll remember
you with the American flag in front of
your house, and your love of battle.
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