kooks live here
the For Sale sign dangles
like a war banner in the wind,
the graf sprayed casually,
words skunked, cached,
lost in the dusk.
the point stands:
proud, tall.
indifferent.
here live clowns,
washed
their makeup, shed
their giant shoes
for leather loafers
but we know
who you are.
you can’t hide.
men who wear silk,
women who don’t,
boys who don ski masks
before asking questions
never raise their hands
in class lest we sniff out
that time you stared
at the wrong end
of a Sears catalogue.
listen: don’t come back here.
tuck your thoughts
in your shoes.
you’ve done it before
when your naked bodies
glittered in the cold dark.
skinny dipping is a life skill.
paint is impenetrable.
you, kooks, when you scrape
your soles on the concrete
we know
that sometimes your toes
gleam vagina-pink.
we’ll strip your socks,
paint them black
like they damn-well should be.
