Unhitched suburbanites are sleeping with repo'd Subarus
in phone booths silent and abandoned
as if they'd tried but failed to find a vacancy
in the landfills of telemarketers decked out in triple Spandex
their closings leap-frogged
their coarse-furred marmots having been reblogged,
recalled, redirected, and retrofitted with snows.
They are ready for the New You.
Your friends have been texting you blue
having mastered the requisite tongue-twisters
as evidenced by the number of gnats
circling above your brown-bagged bottle of Bacardi.
having mastered the requisite tongue-twisters
as evidenced by the number of gnats
circling above your brown-bagged bottle of Bacardi.
You know one when you see one.
Not a problem.
Not a problem.
You have retooled your profile, chatting yourself up
as the other darling of three-star forensic menus.
as the other darling of three-star forensic menus.
You have weathered the plague of muscle spasms
and been nominated
for the Erectile Dysfunction Hall of Fame.
You are as ready as ready.
and been nominated
for the Erectile Dysfunction Hall of Fame.
You are as ready as ready.
Do you recall tweeting the party of the first part
while Moon River fondled the wind chimes
in the SROs of your childhood composition books
while Moon River fondled the wind chimes
in the SROs of your childhood composition books
or are you about to fold your card table and remove yourself
from the list of attendees?
from the list of attendees?
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| Martina Hoogland Ivanow |