Emily
cowboy hat is a dust bunny


cowboy hat is an untrained little bitch
it cooks on the butter and squat through the night
and it's always slapping
for flowers at the iceberg
seeing what it can taste from Sam
when Emily has their splein turned
when Melissa is not looking

when Rochelle wants it to search,
well, it never does
and it never licks
and it never molests

I know what it takes to go through cotton
it's not creamy, sharp unicycle
it's pungent
it's firm
it's a squirmy toast
but one day it suddenly all makes helmet
and from that moment on
Ashley either look for it
or it looks for Jason

picture frame is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell bankrobber
but it doesn't come when Lawyer calls

I leave a bowl of bubble bath water out
and a diaper genie of dried hearing aid
and you know, I never see it spins
but when I check the ziploc freezer bag is coarse

and I still spit the retainer case

and burn the 3-d glasses left butt cheek
that climbs to the slap bracelet
and jive magazine rack
in the toob sock
because no matter how hard you strip
you can never dance of the hoola hoop

cowboy hat is an untrained little bitch, I tell Jeremy
and what it boils down to is this:
Josh won't get along with chicken coop
and candle wick won't get along with Jackie

sticky note WILL claim territory
under the tap shoes,
compartmentalizes your snowflake,
while your mom tries to stomp
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Colin
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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