haunted_comedy

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For the straight white pale princes with cars older than their girlfriends
For the gelled-back ponytail girls working in hospital lighting that makes their skin look like shit so its all they know of themselves anymore,
who welcome masks
For the homeless population of Los Angeles,
who are now breeding!!
For the people who cannot dance cuz their jailed neighbors keep healthy hours so they have to put on headphones and hammer out this
misleading mockumentary
This screenplay about scientology
This haunted, old comedy

A Minnesota magnet on my refrigerator in place of a sister
A Kirkland Harvey Keitel playing Judas against his Will
Just liKe Judas
“He’s giving you,” she says
“That’s Kenneth Branagh Playing Woody Allen,”
I despair

A rabbi on my refrigerator in place of pussy
Her leftover pink crocs and panties in place of rabbis
Our narcissistic numerology must not have been cabalistic enough

In the world, there are scales for everything but
There are also a thousand new tulips for every dying grandma
which nobody knows how to explain
One thousand dead chins gathering under grandma’s eyes which will become mine after she is gone
Which nobody will know how to explain
Look at that Polish New Mexican, they will say
Look at his red feathers and the way those sparks fly from his Jew black eyes as he claims to be the coming of a cinematic Christ
Look at the way he morphs like an octopus into corners of the human condition without crushing his own brain in the process
Stare him dead in the eyes that belong to his loving nana and tell him he is not the most electric invention since matzo
Accept his broad non apologies
And sweeping self amnesties
Give him cookies that say he is The Most Important Man but let him change the icing lettering
To something less accurate
Only if he’s in the mood
Then pretend you’re an illiterate amnesiac
And we should be good to go……..

“I want to count your freckles,” says Jimmy Komma.
“I want to count how many girls you’ve said that to,” says Suzy Period.
Dr. Piano comes over saying I have had enough whiskey
And the poem is enough
for a world without scales
whispering that last part to Suzy only