Dirty Milk("you murmer through your silk of lips")

June 16, 2003

Type: discussion

The street: clatter, rumble, burning. The street: vain
large trucks. The street: empty, empty belly,
levitates. The street: velvet head, swim, velvet
headlights.
A broth of traffic nickels the wind. As I walk to
work I'm pelted by change. I am forcing my body
through creased greens. Kids howl 'Freak!' at me from
hopped-up cars.
Scald pepper border roads or blacktop pause. Fluff at
tops of phone towers wanton cashed-in air. And you,
you too mark me, holding my cock below water; it
sputters. 'Freezing,' you murmer through your silk of
lips. Kidnap pangs.
I'll tell you: a long time ago kids sped by,
screaming 'Freak!' and I fingered them. They scrolled
to a halt beside me. The nice policemen stepped easily
from their car. 'We don't see many white kids in this
neighborhood,' he said. 'Unless they're looking for
dope.' 'Why you do that, man?' the one kid wants to
know. You were yelling shit at me so I fingered you.
'You ever been arrested?' The nice policeman asks.
'I'm gonna run your social through our system, see who
you are.' 'You shouldna done that,' the kid says. He
punches me in the face, laughs. It don't hurt; it's
just pressure. 'You mean to tell me you ain't never
been arrested?' he asks, astounded.
I'll tell you: long ago, agon; cream skies, siphon
and spit. 'The Homecoming' by the waterfall in your
brain, spilling out over your blouse, moistens the
duct tape. Is the rope burning your wrists yet? :-)

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