Oh honey, you're a wild one
with your blowfish blues
(you have to pull it apart,
just right
or,
you could DIE!)
your baby blues, your underground Germans,
and Irish ex-pat escapism plan
to marry your friend
because you and her
fear the new president
even though,
it's really nothing more
than business as usual
in Washington.
How do you do you do it?
(What?)
Punch an alligator,
the alligator punch?
You just take both hands,
start punching behind
the eyes,
(she throws her hands
wildly)
And, that’s all
you gotta do,
if you're an island child
you know this
(god she was wild
and cute)
“I’m 28! Happy Birthday
to me!”
She was a belly-dancer
had traveled with
a troupe,
I’ve been nowhere
with
my unused
passport pages
shiny
and new.
I’m ashamed,
three years older and
turning gray
and I
never have done coke
underground
with Hanz and Franz.
Nein.
But, if I’m ever attacked by an
alligator
I know where to punch it.
However,
I'd probably kill myself
and release the poison
with a blowfish
A week earlier she was talking
really close
and even then
I was trying
to figure out
am I getting ready to
step on a blowfish?
She’s talking so close
and
I’m aching
inside,
for just
a taste
of
something
anything,
it's okay,
It doesn't have to be
real.
I think I just got high
on
blowfish poison.