I’ve got souvenirs like if I walked a million miles:

A giant marble shattered in a billiard game,

A sea filled with two bullets in it, one filled with a butcher shop, one with romance novels,

A prince’s pony rolled in eviction notices

And a round cave hidden away like a cervix.

There’s a pyramid, another big cave,

A continent’s worth of Fozzy Bear imitators

—My apartment’s like a cemetery hated by the moon,

So she sends me all her returned mail, and there’s a line of postmen at my door

Waiting to charm me with dead letters and unemployment checks.

My bedroom is filled with the plastic yellow roses of Texas.

Where do they get all this outdated shit?

Pink lawyer’s suits and waxy lips,

I can’t seem to get away from the smell of a thousand bottles of cheap perfume.

Someone has opened another bottle of cheap perfume.

But I’ve never flown off on a long journey

Where at the end of a cold year

I sat under the apple of my curiosity

And viewed the empty warehouses of the afterworld.

It’s just a dream o material world!

I’m sunk, as in granite, buried under satin jackets,

Awash in a desert of hairbrushes and pens

While my Sphinx looks over a nation of Ginsu knives

Not even out of their cartons and thinks it horribly funny

That the crayons I’ve collected are melting underneath the couch.