Ikea pilgrims.

 i am new york city

here is my brain of hot sauce

my tobacco teeth my

     mattress of bedbug tongue

legs apart     hand on chin

     war on the roof     insults

pointed fingers     pushcarts

     my contraceptives all

look at my pelvis blushing

i am new york city of blood

police and fried pies

     i rub my docks red with grenadine

and jelly madness in a flow of tokay

my huge skull of pigeons

my séance of peeping toms

my plaited ovaries excuse me

this is my grime my thigh of

steelspoons and toothpicks

     i imitate no one

i am new york city

of the brown spit and soft tomatoes

     give me my confetti of flesh

my marquee of false nipples

     my sideshow of open beaks

in my nose of soot

     in my ox bled eyes

in my ear of saturday night specials

i eat ha ha     hee hee and ho ho

i am new york city

never-change-never-sleep-never-melt

     my shoes are incognito

cadavers grow from my goatee

     look i sparkle with shit with wishbones

my nickname is glue-me

Take my face of stink bombs

my star spangled banner of hot dogs

take my beer can junta

my reptilian ass of footprints

and approach me through life

approach me through death

approach me through my widow’s peak

through my split ends my

asthmatic laugh approach me

through my wash rag

half ankle     half elbow

massage me with your camphor tears

salute the patina and concrete

of my rat tail wig

face up     face down

piss into the bite of our handshake

i am new york city

     my skillet-head friend

my fat-bellied comrade

     citizens

        break wind with me

~ Jayne Cortez, “I Am New York City” 🍂🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🍂