Whatever happened to nice guys,
nice girls?
Whatever happened to people who
care?
Everybody's in the business of
Major Hurt.
He splatters a bloody, betrayed
razor in the toilet.
She combs her hair that a cockroach
will later sip
between its mandibles. He's got
a Master's Degree
in Suffering. She's got a Doctor's
in Torture.
Don't mess with this guy, don't
mess with her, don't mess,
period. He'll shove a hot needle
in your eye, a boll-weevil
in your ear. She'll sponge the
whipmarks with salt
and say Now, now, baby, I never
ment to hurt you!
But No, you say. No no it ain't
that bad!
There's good times, too! Like
when an ocean of drugged
happiness floods an orgasm down
your legs and out
your shoes and you go splashing
big puddles of joy
everywhere, with trees laughing
like crazy, the hawk
chuckling, and the bill-collector
sleeping
dreaming he's being tortured by
a telephone.
Everywhere you go it's Horror
Enterprises.
A doorknob gets slimy with fingerprints
from a passing funeral, and still
they wipe their asses.
The Exit door to the Terminal
Ward closes
and everybody is at home evaporating
into a TV.
There're noises at night: a rumble
of rubber over tracks.
There're black tears of soot dribbling
over the ledge,
traffic signs switching people
forward, scarring directions
into the night. There's a gang
on the corner
with knifeblades of rumor about
you flashing in their palms.
Everybody wants out still the
city keeps
breathing through their pores.
Open the door and the smell ot
rotten circuits buff against you,
You get plucked, suddenly, one
day out of the toilet
by cops dressed as truckdrivers,
a shred of shit still dangling
from your ass. No one turns around,
no one says anything.
You know you're doomed
when the interrogators turn out
to live next door.
But God Bless America! Isn't it
great? People will defend
when the time comes. They love
it here.
Just don't stare too long at your
best friend's T.V.
Don't check out the little white
girl with frilly panties
even though it's the taste of
her popsickle
you have in your mouth. Stay back!
Don't touch
whatever you do!
Because they'll burn every last
molecule in your bloodcells.
They'll search out every living
hair until they find you.
And when they do, you better take
flying lessons, homeboy,
you better have wings.