Is it escapist
That I want to go
Back into the past
Of future Thai beaches
And sit there watching while you
Smirk at me
Drinking beer
In the sun
Squinting
Prodding
***
Destiny or burden
To search for princes
Instead of kingdoms
I’d never be on that fucking beach myself
***
Myself,
I guess,
I’d be a socialist scientist in Buenos
on a Che bike
or a degenerate in LA
Doing angel dust and
angels
Killing time until it killed me
Or a mother in St. P.
Of two
With matching braids
And the same 8th grade ru lit textbook
That we used for years
***
How many other soviet housewives out there
I wonder
Doing lines on cracked mirrors
Dirty bathrooms and penthouses
Instead of standing in line
***
Sex drugs and rock’n’roll
sure didn’t shape up to the adverts
***
Bitch, you be complaining
even if you fell in flowers
Maybe try a little harder next time. And STFU.
Living in dreams
Instead of making them
Escapist
Lazy
B
***
And still I always keep one,
My dream stash.
