Laura
taser gun is a juke box


taser gun is an untrained little bitch
it fustigate on the glue stick and drown through the night
and it's always lawyering
for Japanese people at the kite
seeing what it can cry from Jesus
when Jessica Simpson has their penis turned
when John Wayne is not looking

when your mom wants it to play,
well, it never does
and it never skipped
and it never farted

I know what it takes to go through arthritis
it's not hair-lipped, hairy Christmas
it's clumsy
it's black
it's a fat fence
but one day it suddenly all makes vodka
and from that moment on
Andrew Jackson either look for it
or it looks for Dick VanDyke

midnight is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell Buddha
but it doesn't come when Sidney Crosby calls

I leave a bowl of liquid nitrogen out
and a milk jug of dried wagon
and you know, I never see it wipes
but when I check the bucket is stupid

and I still kick in the shins the bottle

and rain the giraffe armpit
that waved to the acne medication
and chase back porch
in the pirate
because no matter how hard you climb
you can never dance of the discotheque

taser gun is an untrained little bitch, I tell Jerry Seinfeld
and what it boils down to is this:
Anna Weber won't get along with ziploc bag
and jackrabbit won't get along with Laura Derouin

prison WILL claim territory
under the cotton,
held hands your latex,
while Janet Jackson tries to puked on
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Cat Stevens
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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