TRICIA WARDEN

new jersey x-ray vision truckstop whore

women open fish in a sweat shop. fuscia guts slap against each other in a slimy metal can. they know more than you do. they are invisible. four kids kick another kid because his pants are unfashionable. his mother is a crackhead with a broken tooth. he survives on mayonnaise sandwiches and hope. hope like mayonnaise has no nutritional value. waterbugs plan attacks on fat-suburban housewives with weak hearts and press-on nails. their husbands eat fried chicken and watch japanese porn with their girlfriends. clouds slide into town like angry ghosts pregnant with rain. they bust cum shots on the unemployed while the wealthy sigh behind stained glass windows and smell like money. people worship guns, movie stars, and a new 10 day cabbage diet. they’ll pay for god if you charge them. on the highway: jackknives, jigsaws, plastic forks, a broken xylophone, a hooker with fists of gold. a rape in the schoolyard, a death in a fishbowl, blood on the avenue. hard-ons weep. women scream. put more film in the camera. lights are changing. the guards are laughing.

shoe laces are caught. fat lips follows the dollar. our string is strong. our hearts are mean. a first kiss unties in the back of a car, beside a 2 tree park that stinks of piss. a day she’ll always remember. a smell that does not wash out. your mother told you to never go. but you went and had fun for awhile. no one told you that you would bleed to death. would you have believed them if they had? mascara carves black roads down your face. he says you are beautiful when you cry. you should run, but you don’t. mountains of tires burn. i don’t like living here. no one cares about the 2 year olds, they are appetizers for the cruel. junk twists on the spoon and groans like sperm fried on a hot plate. at the crime scene policemen adjust their crotches, their pistols cocked for the amusement of children and other virgins.

i have ten bucks, what do you got?

no one saw anything. no one ever sees anything around here. not if they want to live longer. not that that’s long any how. you are warm beneath the green blanket. i smile when i see you. i kiss your mouth when i am lucky.

haiku

walking to the store
i wished i could be a wolf
i bought pears instead
he threw rocks at me
he told me i was nothing
i do not know him
the ghost in my house
visits the edge of my bed
not breathing he waves

have no fear, the beating never lasts

i was too near the line between life and death
i leaned into it like a breeze
that’s when i went out and bought the wig
i wore it home but didn’t like who i was in it
i burnt it in my backyard
it smelled acrid and wrong
so i knew i was right
i walked the streets with a giraffe neck
i learned a new language
i danced where you couldn’t see me
i never held your hand
the sanskrit of the faces made me feel more alienated
i longed for rain or a conversation
i passed out on the couch next to an empty bottle of wine
i found new uses for duct tape
the love of my life was a cat
i asked you to meet me underneath the trestle
i didn’t want to be your teacher
i wanted to fuck you down
you wouldn’t let me touch you and my lips were cold
you still smoked all of my weed
we sat in front of beautiful food that i couldn’t eat
as you ate your noodles
i understood photosynthesis
you looked at the waitress’s ass

here’s to hope and other fragile things easily overlooked

it was the day that i put my headphones on and heard the music without being connected to the machine. it wasn’t bad music, it was music i hadn’t heard before, the music of my mind, it was spilling out of my head like a class riot in an ocean. i wondered if others could hear it. i stood extra close to people at the bus stop but i couldn’t tell if it was my closeness or the music that made them inch away, possibly both…it was music that i couldn’t explain…i can’t even play an instrument to show you…a human mouth can not fit around it…like god’s cock it sings…things get made and destroyed, cities rise and sink, the music shakes the foundation, i find it hard to think. i tried wearing ear muffs. i thought about putting glue in my ears but that felt too much like prison, plus it would be selfish if even one other person could hear it, can you hear it? put your head close to mine. hold your breath and listen.

mover, shaker, fakefuck

you probably can’t even
sit on a toilet honestly
i bet you tell the toilet
that you’re taking it out to lunch
before you shit in its mouth