i live in a beautiful neighbourhood
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with a giant communal swimming pool
that toddlers fill with gold, not urine.
my Motorola(tm) phone has its own plastic surgeon on speed dial.
the girl next door sunbathes naked on her balcony
and nobody admits to wanting to commit suicide
by jumping into the dark silicon chasm
between her giant breasts
her boyfriend has nineteen inch biceps and drives
that has found God on the discovery channel
while the mailman keeps checking his Rolex(tm)
and twice daily we all have appointments with Picasso(tm)
who paints human faces on the blank stumps
we try to pass of as heads
and I'm so fucking rich that if I slit my wrists
I bleed Donald Trump(tm)
(I tend to shy away from referencing popculture
in my poetry,
since it thumbtacks the poem to some moment in
time and space,
but it's good that I do it in this instance,
otherwise I'd have to examine my character.
And we really don't want that).
"Imperious, choleric, irascible, extreme in everything, with a dissolute imagination the like of which has never been seen... there you have me in a nutshell, and kill me again or take me as I am, for I shall not change."
From his Last Will & Testament, Marquis de Sade