Lynn in Giddy Mediocrity

when was the first time he

touched someone who responded deviously

leaving deep tooth marks or some terrible addition

to his vocabulary of innumerable vulgarities

he considered under the concrete of

the fifteen-year-plan of

this ‘burgeoning’ city

 

ever hated a stranger because you recognized

in them the sort of insecurity

that would have gotten you in trouble

in the fifth or something grade?

these tattle tales infest escalators after work

a high tide

he noticed aware of his (historical) weaknesses

in mischief

 

Entirely Allergic To:

Pollen / Percocet / Paul.

she scribbled on his expired napkins tucked in his

expired drawer, rotting

before she left town

and became Lydia leaving Lynn behind

Lydia the internet

conquering Lynn the typewriter

to his dismay

 

How many times have I shivered

In this exact park within this hour

And gagged at the same thought of

Losing my wallet with all six of

my membership cards

Or, terrifyingly, losing

you: hilariously, ripped from my brick

towards the good sense of others

(the communists the satanists the scientologists)

the other guys who

wear such crispy linen

towards some unknowable Lydia, please

stay here, stay Lynn in giddy mediocrity!

 

wakened in the morning-light by track eight of an acquaintance’s

“masterpiece” or “mix” or “demo” or “whatever”

blaring inside my cranium

you are! miraculously! beside me!

tangled in crushed linen inflating and deflating with

foreign dreams of future tattling, I watch you compress

and I , Paul of your allergies, deflate

to your unknowable bloating months

on some inner tube faulty with

bite marks and expletives