Solid to sludge

Sitting on a dick

that’s limp

she reminds me of

the happiest day of my life

when I am five

and my father brings a cake

to wish me a happy birthday

and he says he’s happy

really happy

and so am I –

both of us the happiest

after

a life he pieced together

in punctured English

and in abysses of sadness

and things I can’t know

just like he can’t know

I peed my pants a little

while he brought out the cake –

then the cake falls on the floor

and he goes out to buy another

because he made a mistake

which happens when you’re older

but there are also solutions you discover

if you give them time

and I wait

and the cake comes

and I am older

and so is he

and the cake is the same

brown frosting and whip cream

with my name smudged on top

but it is different too

even if a picture is taken

of me blowing out the layers of sweets

and it looks like the happiest moment

repeated again and again and again

until I come,

or just shoot smoke.

*

How flimsy

a penis is

that all it takes

is a tumor

to grow in it

after a bit

of wrist work

and how complete

is the

woman’s seat

of joy

that overflows

to give me cancer

that poisons

the whole

with pus

*

I spent time

studying the anatomy

of a woman

to please her

but I was old

and soft

and dusty

by the end

of the research

and so was she,

from solid to

sludge,

boner to

boned.