Closing Thoughts

And here, boys, an excerpt from my thesis statement. 'Twas a long four years for an undergrad student, CCMCVGCRM

(Through grinning, evil teeth twisted by eddies and crack smoke) This one's for you! so grab your lupe and decipher:

March '25

It was finally the month where they slaughtered (We did!)

The sacred cow

The dying sounds were not so much squeals, more muttered gasps

And it was quadrangles

And it was the carotid's baubles

When the mantle was laid (the four of us, one on each corner, fine satin gloves holding up in a fluttered wave, you hope this fabric will give the ceremony more decor, our steeple hats spinning around like a lazy Susan for tabletop gods) you couldn't help but say

"Flower crochets and a dream"

And I was brought, or we

We were brought forward, yes

A great, confused brute

And they passed the blade, loving

On the fur knotted throat

(The handle being ivory, crowned by a sapphire)

The spluttering was an occasion

To behold starry eyed, white smiled

Doesn't this style remind you of something I used to do?

"The marching troops on Boulogne-Sur-Mer"

Don't you remember? Remember then?

I've used up all my best tetrameters and metaphors for round one

So forgive me if this seems disappointing, not rising to the occasion

But slaughtering livestock is mechanical sometimes

So if it makes you feel more comfortable picture me as a bull

Raving and ramming my head, but you are supple, light, moving dexterously in your purple traje de luces as your montera hula hoops around your pompadour, dodging my charges

And plucking into my great back your banderillas, pluck pluck

Of course you and him are proud of this embarrassment I suffer, but you forget to mention I was sedated, transfixed, before being brought into this stage

And I am merely a babe, not much of an adult like he's supposed to be

I am the one who's gonna cash-in on my golden years

The loosening of the blood

Pluck

(And then you whisper soft upon my hide)

I think I stopped caring

Pluck

It's none of my business but

Pluck

You're a stupid, ugly beast

Pluck

Ready to feast

Pluck

On any crumb of attention

Pluck

You just keep asking for sweets

(Rapid panning across the audience, pastel green bonnets, quadrille dresses, double breasted checkered suits, kids dolled up in little sailor get-ups, they are throwing up peace signs, Swiss-German assholes selling finger-traps to Brazilian maidens sweating like whores in church, reporters making human pyramids to try and reach the great interview with the fella-up-above)

As these eyes gather

I fall

Don't you think I look pretty like this

Blending into the wistful color of murdergiddy crowds?

Pluck pluck pluck you keep at it, I am your gee-tar, neckerchief red waved, go on provoking me until something is dead

Insults and threats upon his lips, flambeing of a crepe suzette and winking syrette in my dark wombtomb

Seems like I'm instigating

But in reality I just want to stop

This skull dance

The amarillo tonguewhip when you say "Caprico"

My capricious little matador

And here neither a hope nor a taunt:

Be seeing you around.