Archive for December 5th, 2010

Onion Ring Lamentations

By Nick Hranilovich

Over two vats-
One labeled “fries”
one “appetizers”
I believe (so says inner monologue)
that life is bountiful and just
& deny that I’m a fry cook

Flutes flit and caress my skin
outer cherub wing tips grazing melody cheeks
But niggas be blazin’ on the rap shit
New beats
Out of honkey-bought, cracker-operated,
turkey-bred iSquanders
A business major and a potbellied impermanent punk
From a bygone era of skipped class and sterlized
body-deforming style needle
chew the fat on kilos across borders
when they have neither grams nor atoms in hand or nostril
I survey the fat burbling beneath my eyes
Don’t throw the coin in the fountain unless it’s battered
To dunk my face in and inhale for workman’s comp, acne, and sympathy

I ain’t afraid of no time vampires.
No ghosts neither. There’s one in the basement bar
-some cat died here years ago and they dragged him down the staircase
so nobody would lose their lunch
(The same lunch I burn for them with disregard
the same lunch that killed him)
Now everybody speaks on the light orbs in the corner of their eyes
as they descend from upper booze quadrant
to the booze quadrant nearer the core of the Earth
where it’s WARM
Some spookiness enough to rattle and erect hairs
on unsuperstitious necks
Give me my bone necklace and the demons of cardiac arrest
will be cast out of these dank collegiate vomit-soaked corridors
Dancing a fury dance and incanting on deathlessness
Ghosts respect a possessed man as cars cowtow to full lots
Every inch of me is a haunt for some chosen few spirits
that can leap through necks and guzzle impertinence
straight from the words of faux pas throats

“I’d fuck her and her and her and her
and her and her
and her with a bag on her face
and her with a bag on my face
and her with firewater in my belly
and her with coke in my nose
and her with the right music in the background
and her from behind
and her from above
and her from within”
Your records are breaking, potbelly and yuppie.
I want to fuck your hearts. Major cock-on-aorta action.
After I check the temperature on these buffalo chicken wings.
God is merciful and I am a fry cook.

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