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gene roddenbury--agent of beelzebub--was no match for my mom

i should look back on this with a smile
and if i sound bitter it's only because her
attitude left me unprepared to meet the devil
satan had better taste than leonard nimoy, sort of
he picked an bronzed grunt with a waxed-down longboard
(a direct compensation for his penis)
so you can imagine that i was caught off guard.

but seventeen year old virgins are as dumb as a pair of bowling cleats
and so far i'm the only one who has to live with my mistakes
i say to them now and i hope they hear me
"i am the tiniest androgine, and I'll wear boxers if I damned well please"
clothes are warm and a comfort i think i'll run naked and see how it feels
maybe i'll get insecure at the last minute and
borrow my roommate's rosary or her black feather boa
matthew will take pictures if i'll kiss his ex-girlfriend that way again
and i will post them on the internet
i'll send the address to my beloved parents
force them to address each other for the first time in twenty years
and will cybershout at them both
"you cannot ignore each other anymore!
and you will no longer use me to fight your
petty post-divorce battles because that, to quote Dr. Evil,
is ri-goddamned-diculous after all this time."

cinnamon toast was for breakfast
sneakers are for playgrounds
vanilla is an aphrodesiac or so they tell me
like i should tell her all of these things
instead i keep a cat and a quasi-journal where in it
i do not even write to myself the rest of what i wish she knew

forget it. i already have. it was mostly a tangent about how
channel-surfing doesn't count as prayer or meditation

copyright, C.M. Priest