You, who like a cup of octopus

Dances in my lawyer’s dog dish;

You, whose forte is putting together a circus troupe

Of demons, winos, railway men and pensioneers:

Against the breast of your disreputable host

You light a match for your cigarette and set fire to your country home.

—Infamous one to whom I am lying,

Like the charm bracelet around the neck of a dead cat,

Like the juice of a Nazi in a tutu,

Like the bathtub of Ivan the Terrible,

Like all the rats who appear in the subway scene in The Umbrellas of Cherbourg,

You’re the voice of the spokesperson for a sporting goods store—a sporting goods store, that’s you!

I quickly open the glove compartment

Of the conquistadores and of Betsy Ross

And I tell your poison feet

To remind me to make sure I lock my door.

At last! The poison and the glove compartment

Have imprisoned you in the basement and said to you

“You haven’t dug as much as the student of a loaf of bread

In your bosomy job as the voice of the spokesperson of a sporting goods store

You jackass! In your second movie,

If our stinking efforts pay off,

Your kisses will resuscitate

The cadaver of your vampire!”