Senior year, among a great many other things,
I spent in a sophomore level history class.
Credits didn’t transfer state to state, or something like that.
Generation gaps don’t need as many years in highschool,
And I had no idea what was up with these little kids in class around me.
I’m a senior; I don’t talk to anyone but the teacher in class,
Save one time I loaned this girl a pencil,
She bats her eyelashes at me ever since
[ran shoulder first into my girlfriend in the hall,
whispered, “he’s mine” and shoved her]
But as confused as I was about that,
Nothing–nothing–nothing got to me more than the tales of the “poopmeister”
–he literally graffiti’d the bathroom walls with shit,
–to hear my sophomore gossipers tell it, it was his own shit.
#
College, a good friend of mine,
[until he told another good friend of mine–
“if you go drink with him, he’ll probably rape you.”]
He tried his hand at our slam poetry game.
He wrote this long profanity ode to shit.
We were supposed to write about a color;
He chose “shit-green”.
Used all his “shits” and “fucks” and “damns”,
At least as many as a christian school would let him get away with.
I chose a-summer-without-rain brown,
He probably thought that was shit too.
#
In all the people I’ve dated,
No one has ever,
{as my uncle would put it,
probably after breaking wind,
“dropped a load”}
In my house, while I was there.
It’s not one of the more attractive levels of intimacy,
But it’s one none-the-less,
And I’ve never, never, been trusted with that.
[I don’t date you because you’re perfect and inhuman,
I date you because you’re human and imperfect and that’s beautiful]
#
I’ve spent more time thinking and writing there than you’d be comfortable knowing.
I’ve read more textbooks, more works of great literature.
It only seems appropriate to fill myself with something–
As my body evacuates what it has no need for.
#
I wouldn’t call it artistic, at least not any more than anything else,
I don’t think it’s funny, at least not any more than anything else,
But it’s not something I’ll shy away from, I make no claims of perfection,
Shit is shit is shit.
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