Alex
blueberry is a dishsoap


blueberry is an untrained little bitch
it walks on the finger and jog through the night
and it's always gyrating
for dogs at the candle
seeing what it can skip from Marie
when Shyloh has their nostril turned
when Ed is not looking

when Chautelle wants it to pee,
well, it never does
and it never wanks
and it never slaps

I know what it takes to go through buttcheek
it's not feathery, lumpy toothpick
it's rough
it's voluptuous
it's a succulent pig
but one day it suddenly all makes deathstar
and from that moment on
Shaggy either look for it
or it looks for Ollie

bottle is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell myself
but it doesn't come when Ethel calls

I leave a bowl of tea out
and a lunchbox of dried stove
and you know, I never see it jiggles
but when I check the thimble is thick

and I still poke the thermos

and shake the toilet big toe
that undulates to the bowl
and lick spoon
in the toaster
because no matter how hard you transform
you can never skip of the aspirin

blueberry is an untrained little bitch, I tell McGuyver
and what it boils down to is this:
Homer won't get along with forklift
and condom won't get along with Kayla

hair WILL claim territory
under the sumo wrestler,
meows your cat,
while Sean Connery tries to lactate
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Moses
to shut their eyes

---

Orginal poem:

death is a dog

originally written 7/8/98


Death is an untrained little bitch
it pees on the carpet and barks through the night
and it's always begging
for scraps at the table
seeing what it can take from you
when you've got your back turned
when you're not looking

when you want it to heal,
well, it never does
and it never rolls over
and it never plays dead

I know what it takes to die
it's not an emotional, rash decision
it's cold
it's calculated
it's a numbing void
but one day it suddenly all makes sense
and from that moment on
you either look for it
or it looks for you

Death is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell you
but it doesn't come when you call

I leave a bowl of water out
and a bowl of dried dog food
and you know, I never see it eating
but when I check the bowl is empty

and I still refill the bowl

and vacuum the dog hair
that sticks to the couch
and spray air freshener
in the living room
because no matter how hard you try
you can never get rid of the smell

Death is an untrained little bitch, I tell you
and what it boils down to is this:
you won't get along with her
and she won't get along with you

she'll claim her territory
under the bed,
eating your slipper,
while you try to sleep
and remind yourself
that there are no monsters
waiting for you
to shut your eyes

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