We’ll Always Have Bugfuck
(for Harlan Ellison)
Sure,
The leaving is constantly happening
but that doesn’t mean I don’t scream
like one of Harlan Ellison’s army of typewriters
when something else I love’s gone
Fuck, Death’s
,,,,,,,,,,, a really hard worker
damn it,
it’s a lot of other things too, but
it works hard
you’ve gotta give it that
That motherfucker just keeps working
and ending everything and working
It never quits!
I blame it on…….., no, not now
fuck him, President Obvious
(I’m tired of thinking about Trump right now
so right now I’m not thinking about…….)
…….FUCK!!!!!
I mean, it’s just
…………………..
…..this molotov’d world
with its crochet’d insanity, humping things out
in its favorite blue dress!……..
The guy lies to his own ball sack,
he’s orange soda in an upside down deep fryer
and I’m tired of his daily menu of hate rants
and cheap cult manipulations
so tonight, I’m not thinking about him!)
(So goddamn it, stop thinking about him!)
(Ok? it’s just…………
He’s the kinda guy who treats his own dump
like it’s last month’s mistress
and screams in the shower
at the first sign of his own prick)
(tonight’s safety word = Bugfuck)
(Shit, you’re doing it again!)
(Knock it off, asshole)
Bugfuck!
(Don’t think about Trump!)
Death’s work ethic:
(focus!)
I blame it on this bullshit heat of summer
and butterflies dying between driveways
and everything we’ve ever learned
from reading Us Magazine
when we were young
No, I blame it on bird droppings
and Toys R Us dying
and a bunch of things I’ve never heard of before
Fuck, scratch that
(There’s no fun there)
(and I’m tired of not having fun)
Let’s blame it on the Rocky movies
tonight
Because what if before Rocky
Death had started thinking to itself
‘Why am I working as hard as I’m working at this?
Maybe it’s time I slack off and stop working so hard
at my job.’, because killing everything is exhausting
Maybe, before watching Rocky, Death had decided
to start slacking off
everything would still die, inevitably
because that’s just what we do
but before viewing Rocky,
Death had decided to go about the killing
of everything
at a more casual/less prize fighting pace,
thus extending billions
of various individual life spans
exponentially
So,
that’s what Death did
and for its very first time
in its double sided car-crash existence
Death called in fake-sick to work
and stayed home
instead of killing everything
“Wow,” Death found itself
saying out loud, “this is
different.”
Instead of performing murder
Death stretched out on the couch
and read Dostoyevsky and Jack Collom
and Vonnegut
while listening to the Gwyneth Paltrow
broke Chris Martin’s heart Coldplay album
and then it almost ate spinach dip
and actually drank 12 pints of Canadian Mist
and swallowed 3 Lincoln Logs because it had
mistook them for xanex
and thought, this not killing everything all the time
is kinda great………………
decided to jerk off for a century or two
but got immediately sidetracked
and started alphabetizing
the various cast members from The Love Boat
in its head instead
and then: blah blah, blah. Blah
You know how this goes
Halfway through it’s very first day off
Death decided to go to the movies
and that’s where it watched Rocky
and everything went back to being
punch drunk and fucked
Death was so goddamn inspired
by Burges Meredith’s gruff motivational tactics
and watching Rocky wake up early and chase chickens
and run up stairs after heroically chatting up
the fucking goddamn love of his life while she was
wearing her glasses
or however the scene goes
Death got so goddamned pumped up
after watching Rocky that it walked out
of the theater, threw a pair of extra large
American flag shorts on
and went right back to butchering everything
at an accelerated montage chopped together
pace
and then, as Vonnegut said so perfectly
“So it goes”
But what if Death hadn’t watched Rocky
that night?
What if it’d watched
Hope Floats
or The Three Amigos instead?
Shit, we’ll never know
Bugfuck!
We’re left dealing with what we have
to deal with
trying to figure things out
in a world that’s been made
out of leaving
where we’ll always have Shatterday
and the memories of what it was like
to love everything we’ve ever loved
before it has left us
(which brings us back
to where we started)
Bugfuck!, I mean
Sure,
The leaving is constantly happening
but that doesn’t mean I don’t scream
like one of Harlan Ellison’s army of typewriters
when something else I love is gone