3 Years Without Nickel
Nickel,
It’s February again, which means
You’ve been dead for 3 years now
and it’s time for me to sit down at the machine
To remind what’s-been-left-in-your-absence
That you were here,until the clock guts of existence
Had their way with you (rest assured Bubby, I’ve waged war
Against the clock guts of existence) (unrest assured,
There’s no winning against clock guts, damnit
They continue to tick everything eventually into the ground),
And that you were loved
Which is the only thing we really have to cling to, on this
Coin operated/mechanical bull shaped world
Where half a dozen sleazy carnival barkers with Vince Vaughn laughs
Hold all the quarters and the ground bucks furiously
until we’re only an indeterminable number of power ballads away
From being tossed mortal-y into the jagged arms of that old juke box
At the end of the bar, the follow up album to that being
Our own person oblivions, and when we’re oblivious
What did we have that was worth hoping for?
I don’t know, but I’m trying to be optimistic here:
That we’re loved
Why not? And Nickel
You’re loved
I sent the magnetic future predicting ball in motion
A few minutes ago (which is similar in function to the
Future telling napkin holder in that Twilight Zone episode
Where William Shatner becomes the world’s youngest
Office manager and celebrates with his new wife and a couple
Of lettuce and tomato sandwiches. The modern day Mystic Seer
Is now shaped like a magnetized floorboard outfitted
With vague responses, dutifully hovered over by a little metal ball
Attached to a shaky metal string) and I asked
This superstitious desk mate if you were better off now
Where you are and the goddamn thing said ‘Definitely’
But what does it know, really?
For almost an entire month whenever I’d ask it anything
The metal ball would always wind up stuttering
Like a Joe Biden speech about stuttering before hovering to rest
Over its favorite two word cop out-slash-Rocky 2-movie poster tagline:
‘Try Again’
Nickel,
Where you are right now
Is buried in a backyard that no longer belongs to me
Because I’ve moved in the 3 years since you’ve been dead
You never got the chance to see my new place
Which is a shame, really, because we could’ve been happy here
If only you were still alive and the invisible oligarch that owns the building
Didn’t have a biggest-crowd-size type obsession about not allowing cats
Nickel,
What else have you missed while I’ve been missing you?
3 bullet points that come to mind, in no particular order:
- (ah-1) Evangelical Christians have irreparably sold all stock
In their god and thrown in with a truth crushing Weeble
With vagina assaulting fingertips and democracy crushing
flare
- (ah-2-who) I’m still hung up on Helen, (equally ridiculous, admitably)
- (and-ah-3) Baby Yoda
Since you’ve been dead Star Wars has repeatedly broken
My heart but Baby Yoda might save the world
Oh yeah Nickel,
One more thing, the other night it occurred to me/wide awake
Like a Philip K Dick dream
My spirit animal is Mr. Owl
The public face of Tootsie Pops
And Helen’s spirit animal
Was a stick of gum
She chewed the shit out of that thing
My spirit animal exists in the tradition
Of Camus’ Sisyphus, whos bolder is to
Eternally ponder the big question
The only real question:
How many licks does it take?
How many licks does it take, Helen?
To get to the center of things
How many licks can we take
Before our insides are breached
I can still remember the days
When Helen’s eyes were like coathangers
And my dick was a big long jacket
That was the best closet in the world
I could’ve stayed in there forever
But forever only exists in sad songs
And oblivion, so
Regarding Mr. Owl again:
Once that center’s been breached
We’re done for, so remember
To lick accordingly
And why the fuck’s an owl wearing a graduation cap and round glasses?
His tongue pre-dates Miley Cyrus
What flavor is that?
Banana, or yellow pickle?
It’s like John Lennon fucked a snow owl
While listening to Miley Cyrus
While everything else in the world
Was having its period
Nickel,
It’s all sort of like that
With the Tootsie Roll center
Shooting towards an Oscar in its career changing roll as
The End
So tonight I’ll skip cinema
And watch another episode of
Murder, She Wrote instead
Multiverse Johnson 