aayoungit was a hot wednesday afternoon
i saw her downtown
this old high school classmate of mine
valedictorian of her class
hanging like a drying dish rag
on the pock-covered arm
of her fourth divorce
they looked like they had just driven in
from a northern shithole township
to taste
of the urban opioid market
oh,
merri smyth
merri smyth
full of
such
promise
please
tell me this
how is it
you are not
an astrophysicist
instead
a
mother of seven
living and dying
on public assistance
down where i’m from
once you cross the line
from fayette into jessamine county
the condition ceases to be psychotic compulsion
and becomes known as
a bona fide case
of the can’t help its
and that’s what we have here folks
a cliff wandering fool
drinking pabst
wearing the statue of liberty’s crown
deep crimson nail polish and matching pumps
torch in hand
cock knockin’ around in a pair
of walgreens panty hose
blaming his mother for acid rain
and the red sox game
if that ain’t a case of the “cain’t hep itz”
i don’t know what is
you must know
i was only capable of loving you
because i hated myself at the time
who in their right would choose a yolk
of unjustified mistrust
degradation
and mutilation
i threw everything you ever gave me
off the terwelleger bridge
into the little miami river
drunk and laughing
at 3 o’clock in the morning
a fetid dump wasn’t good enough
that shit needed to see the ocean again
but i kept two things
a photo album you gave me
all pictures of you
kissing pictures of me
to remind myself that i did matter
i did have worth and always will
the face of evil must be remembered
to better warn the other villagers
and a copy of the only honest poem you ever wrote
three days after bloody sheets and hands
as two rivers converged in pittsburgh
“lift your cup to this immortal passing
this child of ours who will not every cry
then no tear is shed without love lasting”
that’s the only thing you ever did
that i don’t hate you for
You, insidious creature,
tell me how the fuck is it
you can make a daisy
mean
death?
trust fund baby with a living room outreach
a crashed sports car
and an optional adjunct teaching job
your shit just piled up high enough
to choke the heavens
alcoholics anonymous is a cult
you’re all addicts indeed
itching for a meeting
instead of mad dog
any corner any hour
you may shove that 12 step bible
where the sun don’t shine
i’m sorry i’m from kentucky
i have a t-shirt which reads
eat the sober
no i have no room in my life
to house a mental ward on my couch
oh god you hippy dippy types
dead heads will believe anything
“They are not schizophrenics, they’re people living with schizophrenia…”
i’ll remember that when i wax unromantic
about you in the future
“He wasn’t an asshole, he was a man living with an asshole’s thoughts…”
i remember sitting
in your provisionally furnished
unliving room
piled high with alphabetized stacks
of your personal and professional failures
balanced atop a neurotic collection
of pizza boxes
and coffee cans welded
into homemade torture devices
watching you waller bare assed
on your unfortunate chair
sipping coffee smoking pot
planning on bourbon
complaining no one takes your abuse
in a manner that suits your liking
i found myself wishing to be in a place
with anyone but you
to be anywhere but there
shaking out a rug
airing a mattress
applying pine sol to the length of route 80
to cleanse the earth
of your doomsday pestilence
knowing myself to be a fool
for buying into your bottom shelf poems
and cock strong swagger
my feet swiftly found an escape tunnel
but i kept a picture of you
in your dirtiest jeans
exposing your minimalist views
on having teeth
then drove into the city
had it blown up parade balloon size
and hung it up like scarecrow
a warning to all women
over the cosmetics counter at macy’s
to hell with sympathy
with a marked lack of empathy
just take on more pill
obsessive
compulsive
depressive
schizoeffective
pre menstrual kill your family disorder
postpartum confessions
i can spell aixelsyd backwards
bi polar polar bears
savants and social outcasts
this episode of your mother
is being brought to you
by acme pharmaceuticals
look to the water source or better still
the drugs we’ve pissed into it
because the whole damned world
has developed a twitch
quiet
pretend to be asleep
i hear the nurse coming
your heart
is made
from the shoe leather
of your drunken mother
your soul
is the ash tray
in which your father
crushed cigarettes to their death
your face is blackness
void of human characteristic
your words sharpened blades
hurled at the apple
placed perpetually
upon the heads of those
who must endure you
time and sunlight
will cure the earth
of your plague
all without the help
of a god in heaven