Van
Gogh Doggie Style
There are stars embedded in the painted
black sky, and we are there in love, dinning, in the black stomach flu, of van
Gogh's mother's death. "He" is not allowed. He is too crazy to be
here in HIS own painting. So we nibble the edge of HIS severed ear, while we
hear OUR love, poetry out-loud, my love and US sipping noodles like Lady and
the Tramp, getting closer and closer, but our lips never meet in the middle
because they belong to someone else. We can't even love the movie because it
has already been loved. She loves that movie. She loves that movie more than
you or me. Even if, my little girl self and your little boy self still love
that movie. This woman loves it more. She loves The Tramp. They are in a sexual
doggie style tie, facing opposite direction on the front lawn of Disney Studio.
Visitors are complaining. This is why SHE's dressing like a princess on HER
Facebook, with a knife in her hand, blood running down her eye, and we are all
parked here watching, in stagnant emotion, from our computer chairs under the
starry starry universe of THEIR broken heart and OUR broken emotions.
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