Slivered eyes
my
way, my walk
watched and
weighted,
always on a scale of thumbs.
And I cease
to be myself again,
surfeited
definitions like bent hands on Salvador's clock.
All you cocks
figure it out,
I'll be in my
vagina bubble awkwardly predicting each one of you
onto the
colored lights by name
--but let me
make clear:
my legs are
not spread to your mock or like or silence
--toys and go
home
I AM YOUR
FATHER
and I dance
in your brined uncertainty at everything.
Only my
friends bring me to parties anymore.
