you’re irina, you were in that class, you slide
down across from me. steel flashes in your tongue– your sign.
scribbled-up legal pad–that’s mine. another
day of show-and-tell in bohemia, what luck.
but why is your poem in all lower-caps? you ask and i say
heard of cummings join the 20th century duh! (“double-duh!”)
ha! i like you no but really i think the lower caps is nice when
i’m not really making much of an effort?
maybe if i make an effort editing i’ll
change that? you see that guy? you nod
behind us somewhere when i went to get the muffin i saw
he’s looking at porn.
he’s looking at porn?! doesn’t he have internet at home?
i suppose that shouldn’t surprise i say, worldly-wise.
you wanna know what kind of porn? you ask and i
do, this is fun now, and yet somehow i wind up
saying gross i don’t even wanna know
and suddenly i’m pissed at myself and why am i
such a spoilsport all the time tho you
seem unphased. i’m relieved you don’t
call me a name for being prissy
(like miss priss?) and i’m relieved, too, i don’t know
what some middle-aged perv is doing
browsing porn in a restaurant, but
all the same my mind sees suddenly the two of us
taking mouthfuls of each other in front
of a cam and how would he like that how
would you wouldn’t i though?
i tell you for some reason how francis ford coppola
used to put his name “francis coppola” on the movies
he didn’t really care for, but then he did a really
shitty movie his one truly bad one Jack
and that was a “francis ford coppola” (i imbibed
this information somehow from a film major
along with twenty-odd loads of his spunk) production
so that theory kinda went kersplunk
so maybe my low-caps poem will be my best
tho probably not.
to pee so i can scope what mr. perv is looking at;
(i do tinkle tho), walk back nonchalant and–
it’s really pretty boring stuff am i relieved
or peeved? would salt-n-peppa beard
enjoy looking at the things i’d like
to enjoy doing with you?
ha! fibber! i say that guy’s looking at blonde
cheesecake and big dick i thought it was supposed
to be interesting? and you say fib nothing! you didn’t let
me tell you! what were you expecting anyway?
and i want to ask what are you expecting of me
what would you like me to be what should we do
and what will we? i think i‘d like us to be
together? and i smile and you just raise
a bite of muffin to my lips. i accept
your fingers with a flit of my tongue
(that was desperate, no?) your eyes italicize gray
telepathy at me, and between my legs i’m
ALL CAPS and you go miss priss! gently
i kick at your ankle with my mary janes
your docs spring onto my seat who
shall touch the other’s knee first, love?
