I keep dehydrating myself
Because it’s good to need something
Other than poetry
You know what you need,
Poet
You know what you need is overstatements
And understatements
Not bank statements
It seems as though what you thought you in fact needed
Will sadly bring you no more than you have
How wonderful would it have been
In the event
Of this American capitalist (stay with me)
Truce and agree-ance actually holding more than noodles
But soup
It is a lie, however
And it seems these dreams of yachts and custom made clothing
Implied wealth waving invisible from the concrete as though
It is assumed rather than created
Are never fully realized any more than a Rom-Com
Montage makeover
Because time and reality clutter this world
Void of utopian basics
Bogged down by the truth
And the humidity
My god the humidity
Reminding summer days they are alive but not all well
But I was raised in a swamp
Jumped from my lily pad
Flew through the air
And landed in another boggy balmy humid swamp
I can take the humidity
And you know you are more than okay with it, Poet
You know you love those overstated saber-toothed giant woolly
Painfully real brutal truth-tastic nastinesses
The nights filled with tears and screams and whinny complaints
Set to unfortunate realities
And tasks at hand
You complain about the humidity
But you love being shirtless because of it, Poet
You love your insistent candor and fistfuls of wit
So perhaps dreams of arid dry heats out west
And safely tangible disposable hearty suburban kitchen islands
Filled with junk mail and credit card statements
Are in fact not at all what you really want,
Poet
Perhaps the ugly, bitter, sweaty, whoreish, brash, brazen, seductive
Seedy, underbelly truth
Is that you need something no one else in this world needs
Other than poets
To suck barnacles from the underside of life’s biggest great whites
And scream in joy at the amazing ride zipping through thirsty under currents
For the bargain price of lamentation
Everything for the sake of study
The study of sciences
And arts
But mostly just vain arrogant selfish needs
How dirty a little truth to discover, Poet
But you need rough whisky shot purging animal noise sweat stained
Craziness
It’s perhaps the only explanation you can understand
And the only thing you can fully explain
