Morgan Parker


I do the human being thing
leave curtains open for the rats
suck the teat of basic cable, especially commercials

I like to make white people laugh
compare tattoos with strangers on Chat Roulette
and drink to them in limbo

I’m legs crossed on the plastic-covered sofa
All green with morality I roll on living
(impetus being adventure or getting laid)

Stable, says mother when it’s warm enough
to leave the window open while I sleep
on the marble floor, accidental genesis couplet

Lately it’s a mirror image of myself as teenager
straddling a middle-management type with a bony
butt, crying over 2 minute punk B-sides

What is that thing? A beak? And what
is attached to it? And do you ever get tired of
keeping your tongue to yourself?