Princess of the Wastelands

I can hear her now
from across the room:

the princess, with doe eyes

she believes she lives here
this is her living room,
and these are her people

a party
her party, perhaps
and she’s doing her duty, entertaining guests

until the music dies

and the curtain falls




you and your poodle

from the fine wire-rimmed glasses
to your royal blue overcoat
your preening and spoiled dog that has
an attitude to go with its stylist
from your mouth held tight as the
grasp of your waxy fingers upon your clasp
to the way your eyes look down your nose
and straight ahead all at once
in my head I see your savings, your estate,
your pension and your inheritance
throttling life and foul air from your frail frame
dying alone and despised like the wispy,
brittle bitty I think you are

a pleasant reunion

I believe if some people back home
were to see a stranger on the street
suddenly materialize as me
they’d spew green vomit on the sidewalk
my only wish is that I’d have a pot
to catch that puke and cook it up
and eat another day
with belly full and happy then
I’d smile wide and thank them
for not spewing their rich foods all over me

oh, I can’t wait to meet the kids back home
and see just where they’ve been
’cause I guarantee I’m a lot damn happier
not being one of them