What of fart that farts when I close my eyes
for fart’s own sake and I don’t feel different
like poetry says is eaten by farts
I should so I write indifferent to stink’s
insinuations dispassionately
and accusations or so I pretend
mortgage paid job held tang and taint aren’t guilt
virginity whole but guilt’s avatars
scream at the second knowledge is too keen
bartender goddamn me celebrating
with reinforcing justifications
excess bordering the American
flag jacket now I’m my self-protection
too listening (two beats) from too sharp questions
demanding answers (three) to my critics
as if I owe them I say I’m hungry
as hungry as you more explanation
and just as shallow than I give myself.
