BLUE COLLAR HOLIDAY
My Boyfriend, the Infidel... My boyfriend, the Infidel, is dying of old age so I am praying to Virginia Woolf to soften his heart. I had to kill a lot of impulses to get to him & his point of misery. A black cloud chased me with erotic intention then. My vanity drove me to the ends of the earth in search of nubile flesh & my runny little heart slid back & forth along the glamour axis that is the Rivers' Divide -- an iffy affair flecked with grief. I fled to a Mexican isle just to lose my honky pallor turn the faint & dirty mimeograph red of nipples, die on the line if I recall there was a bandaged harem somewhere in the background brownout, sparklers, girls with organic breasts ducking through oyster fog... The subject of the mural was the Apocalypse & I think you handled the destruction of the world as gently as possible Honey I am really bawling now, can't get through -- we're both sticking to our guns but I'm loaded, really bombed, shot up all night with the horrors though my cousin, my gastroenterologist says I'm fine inside.