Mammaries

         by Chris Dietz

      Strange the way power comes on
      when you least expect it
      or when everyone you know
      is either a retard
      or an asshole
      or a douche bag

      It’s late—I’m smoked out
      singing old mud
      out of my mouth
      not quite fattening
      or embarrassing
      pitfalls about to drop
      ripe wind juggles jockey
      why all the talking to myself

      Memories
      delayed gratification is memory
      nostalgia is memory of taboos
      OCD is memory tyranny
      exact change required
      so what are the memories I don’t hack up
      what secrets do I not write down
      what are the poems that can’t be written
      cut out, end up, all we got

      What if memory failed
      and cross referencing
      couldn’t keep significance straight
      where exactly I configured
      the pucker to the future

      Gaudy memory      
      vying  for the daily assault
      balustrade memory
      shields up, phasers on stun
      memory junkyard dogs

      As though when I remember
      the right lists
      equals reliable time
      I feel pretty good