Katie
lighter is a kite


lighter is an untrained little bitch
it flies on the grass and bang through the night
and it's always hurling
for people at the myspace
seeing what it can smell from Dane Cook
when Mr. Rogers has their gluteous maxsomis turned
when Oprah is not looking

when Ricky Bobby wants it to speed,
well, it never does
and it never swims
and it never dives

I know what it takes to go through Dr. Pepper
it's not hairy, smelly bear
it's sick
it's idiot
it's a tall clown
but one day it suddenly all makes toothbrush
and from that moment on
Santa either look for it
or it looks for Jenna

umberella is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell Brooke
but it doesn't come when Ben calls

I leave a bowl of pee out
and a bottle of dried hero
and you know, I never see it flies
but when I check the glass is rotten

and I still walk the ziplock bag

and inhale the tumble weed toes
that suprizes to the dog
and eating balls
in the baloon
because no matter how hard you dove
you can never sank of the boat

lighter is an untrained little bitch, I tell Emily
and what it boils down to is this:
Coach Anders won't get along with airplane
and tennis racket won't get along with Any Rodick

net WILL claim territory
under the paper,
saves your sock,
while Dolly Pardon tries to smiling
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Pdiddy
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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