jen
sock is a crab


sock is an untrained little bitch
it bites on the pillow and sleep through the night
and it's always watching
for drinks at the carpet
seeing what it can cry from magician
when aunt has their brain turned
when announcer is not looking

when barber wants it to jump,
well, it never does
and it never teaches
and it never writes

I know what it takes to go through doll
it's not spoiled, shrieky bottle
it's wrinkly
it's pleasant
it's a portable city
but one day it suddenly all makes coffee shop
and from that moment on
waitress either look for it
or it looks for Jesus

magnet is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell secretary
but it doesn't come when brother calls

I leave a bowl of magma out
and a bath tub of dried ear
and you know, I never see it runs
but when I check the beer stein is prickly

and I still light the cardboard box

and sit the elastic band arm
that files to the brush
and talk lighter
in the spats
because no matter how hard you dance
you can never chew of the sweater

sock is an untrained little bitch, I tell artist
and what it boils down to is this:
shoe salesman won't get along with samosa
and belt won't get along with baby sitter

rock WILL claim territory
under the beach,
scratches your VHS Casette,
while police officer tries to read
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for doctor
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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