work poem – Madi Bean

August 20, 2024

I think you may be right about everything. I hate to fit the bill when it’s slid to my side of the table. I love to laugh in your face and thumb at the ass of permuted power structures. I’m going to hit the guy with glasses if he keeps fiddling with his suit.

Stalactite hoipolloi girls looking like dark crystal Kira holding court at the wine bar. Rent paid, rendezvous relatively free of degradation making me bored and lame.

I want to watch my fake job boyfriends fight and get the lesbian feeling again. I want to split without consequences. And bite the bit that feeds me

Whispering boring words to soothsaying mast-head maiden. With the Gentle voice of a giant
and pay-per-view palette through perennial mouth. Getting leads out in rural Indiana to pick at a house show and hunt for a message in the bottle. I leave an hour late, the lectern a mess. Pinching its cheek and kissing its temple.