wondering
As creased holiday linen is manipulated against
mother’s proud planks of lemon scented walnut,
I will be wondering
While dandruff riddled skin suits
struggle up her manicured driveway
providing entrance to a merry mess
which vomits jinglin enterprise,
I will be wondering
When Bing Crosby pops his
cheery cherry baritone medicine
across a landscape of Christmas illusions
allowing for cinnamon cuddle blankets to
descend from mother’s judgmental ceilings,
forming rabid alliances with
a gaggle of her hungry invited charlatans,
I will be wondering
Rows of flabby arms with perfumed skin
will push cracked elbows into
polished appearances for a
chimmer chammer smile feast
supporting itself with wisps of crop dusting
shadowed by pocketed beer burps as
exchange of gifts make up for
eleven and a half months of marital strife
in a fractured snow globe version of my parents wonderful life
I will be wondering if it would have been
better to text you, that afternoon four years ago,
more salacious syrup about
the whiskey drip saloon dad
ventures into daily and how it
provides unparalleled sticky flesh smile service
via toned erection lipstick factories painted into
throbbing negligees instead of bikinis
as I had previously inferred with voice mailed
assistance from your eternal flicker flame
Perhaps then I would be plopped into your
gloriously perfect Norman Rockwell
candle moon dance baked together
in a staged Kodak picture moment
Instead, I bask in the Oceans of Shunned
which parallel Truth and Fantasy for
all of my rampage eternity
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Berthed from mischievous leprechauns near technicolor shadow lands surrounding Honah Lee, Theodore Wallbanger rides mysterious sparkle railcars bursting with crunchy cotton candy clouds dispatched from slippery erotic massage vixens who rage pillow laugh hourly within a splintered transportation module that screams along butterscotch wonder tracks forming vibrations for audiences across Sugar Hill Mountain.
Image generated on Magic Studio
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