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IC#4

[I recently attended a poetry reading at Starbucks.

Yes, me. I read this aloud. You should too.

Enjoy.]

WE ARE THE GREATEST DIARY PIRATES OF THE WORLD

We are the greatest diary pirates of the world.

We get up each morning, bathed in the stink redolent

Of last night’s sex, or of our work of the day before.

Or the pining for sex. Our wrathful breath

Gallows the very microbes that live in our beds.

But we are not executive hippies, or pushers,

Or duffers, or tyros:

We are the greatest diary pirates of the world.

We are the greatest diary pirates of the world.

We drink our coffee strong. We eat our eggs raw.

We light our stoves with the crackle of flint

Against our tartar’d teeth. We read the newspapers

Backwards. We drink our orange juice

Straight from the carton.

We tell our children to take baths

With windows open. Sing out loud. Play the pots

And stoves and rubber bands. We tell them to beat their

Sternums until their hearts hurt

With the bruises and blood of pirates before.

Let the boarding school and academy runts

Live in their Barbie Malibu Winnebago world

Of decaf soy extra-hot vanilla lattes.

Let the intellectuals revel in the shizzle

Of their nizzles. We teach our children

That they will be diary pirates

That will beat those Hello Kitty’s into the ground.

Yes, our children will be diary pirates.

The greatest in the world.

We are the greatest diary pirates of the world.

We are students of greed. We are reckless.

We are without scruples. We laugh.

We wiggle our bottoms. We chose

The blue pill. We copy other people’s

Decent diary entries. Even our own. Sometimes,

More than once. We use periods in the most.

Unusual of. Places.

We eat banana squash. And fatty pork.

And milk with fat. We cook

With butter. And manteca.

Our hearts are full of blood

And cholesterol. Our medical records

Record the susurrations of our lives

Like ancient stars in the dark Atlantic sky.

Our wrinkled, spotted, gangrenous fingers are

As desultory as our diaries.

Connect the dots.

Puzzle us together.

Revel in our grammar,

Our rhythm, our lack of rhyme. If we misspell,

Kiss our ass. We don’t need your page views,

Your hits, your clix or your love notes. We read

One another. We use the same spoon.

Lift the toilet seat. Share

Our Zoloft. We are

The greatest diary pirates of the world.

We are the greatest diary pirates of the world.

We take ourselves seriously. Sometimes.

Well, less often than not. We go to work

With swords in our trunks.

With pens made of gold. With our hair

Unbrushed and uncombed. With toothpaste smiles

And uni-brows. We strive

To work as little as possible

And make tons of money. We rob

And cheat and steal from Corporate America.

The CEOs with corn silk hair and the cornstalk fingers

Will fear our speed, our voice, our desire and lust

To lay waste on their corporate ladders.

We will shake the clouds and lower the hills.

We will not finagle but rather force and will

And impose. We will make new trees.

With fewer monkeys.

And force all employees To blog their lives.

Less hate. More learning.

Foment revolution.

Do you hear the people sing?

The song of the diary pirates?

The greatest diary pirates of the world?

We are the greatest diary pirates of the world.

Our men love trollops

In a garlic and honey and port wine sauce.

Our women rule the universe

With a bullwhip and a stem

Of rosemary. We believe our lives are

Not devoted to quixotic goals

Of doctorates or super-sizings of world peace.

We believe in the Zen of Us, our Sexual Tao.

We yearn for hard kisses, skillful tongues,

The pursuit of a good barbecue at lunch.

You want to use big words around us?

Go ahead. We have our dictionaries underneath our yucca plants.

They have yellowed their leaves

And gathered dust because we do not spend our lives

Bending spoons with our minds or worrying about how

People perceive our drunken, haggard countenances.

We write our diary entries while we drive.

While we floss. While we sit on the toilet

And do our archaeology. Go ahead and sing of

"Eyes of melanite, skin of alabaster, zygote from

Nobel laureates, ichor of demons" -- we curse the skies

With your Students of the Month, with your Ivy League noses,

And with your blood we will paint our mailboxes,

Our eyes, our toenails red. Go ahead.

Dance on our graves if we should lose.

Go and consume your birdseed, your alfalfa,

Wallow in your diary about your uselessness.

We will live our lives to their bloodiest.

We will rejoice in our sorrows.

We will triumph in our deaths.

We will break into your house,

Open your bathroom door,

Flush the toilet while you shower. And write chanteys

While you towel off.

Go ahead.

Stand up.

Read this again.

Out loud.

Once more, with feeling.

Hammer style.

You know it.

You tell the story.

Beat your chest.

Howl at the moon.

We are

The greatest diary pirates

Of the world.

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