Monday, April 14, 2008

Three by Misti Rainwater-Lites

Loaded For Bear

today's epiphany brought to me
by the letter "B"
capital, yes, more aesthetically pleasing
& much more accurate
I am a Big Bitch
I am thinking of drinking Beer
until my Brain Bursts into a Billion Bits of Brilliant Blah
Because I Berated my Best friend
over Banalities
and Bruised his Benevolence
and Bled my heart into Anemia
and remembered my Bulimic roommatef
rom the summer of 1990
Big tits and a Better feminine mystique
than mine
when I was eleven and Bony I rode my Bike
to the library and checked out Books
on the Bermuda Triangle and Big Foot
I Believed in Jesus
he was my Boyfriend
I played with Barbie dolls
and imagined myself flawless
and Bubbly
instead of Buck toothed
and Bashful
don't Bother me with your Bullshit...Doo Doo Head
I cannot think of an appropriate insult
that begins withthe letter B
Bees are Buzzing like they do
all up in my Bonnet
the Blame does not
Belong to

the Blond cashier treated me like trash
she did not throw me away
I am heavy
I am muchness
I am one of those Bloated with Baggage Broads
my eyes are Blue
and the most Beautiful things about me
but she was hoping I would Blow away
from her register
I Brought trouble to her shift
(scratch that...she was a Blatant Bible thumper)
"gosh darn it...this Bitch is Bringing a Lone Star card AND WIC vouchers into my line?!!! Bush is so right about these...these...grubby handed welfare recipients! she needs to get a job like me. if I can stand on my feet for eight hours for seven Bucks an hour and Benefits so can she!"
I pushed that Button
(cashier was not friendly to me today)

Lone Star cards and WIC vouchers do not put
Beer and Birth control pills
in the Basket
nor do they provide my Bravado
with the greatest hits of Blondie
Blondie was such a Bad ass
Back in the day
I Bet she never gave Blow jobs
for tacos
Debbie Harry gots that lucky white chick glow

I gots mosquito Bites
and sweat Blurred
those Bic lighters held up in worship
of my whiskey vocals and ripped fishnets
all the Boys
linin' up
for a whiff
of my Texas Back roads


How Many Cliches Does it Take To Make You Want To Die?

or: I Spent My Summer Vacation Trying To Decide
How To Kill Myself
because: Smile! God Loves You!
Friends Are Forever!
The Road is Often Uphill But Walk it, Anyway!
Cats Are People, Too!
Into Every Garden A Little Rain Must Fall!
We All Make Mistakes! That's Why Pencils Have Erasers!
There's A Hamburger Up Ahead With Your Name Smeared All Over it!
I'm sick of this Oh We're All So Jolly Up At The North Pole
Making Our Toys Playing Our Reindeer Games Farting Marshmallows And Pissing Hot Cocoa
Kurt Cobain sang about denial until his throat
was raw
and now he's dead
like hamburger meat
and the Courtney Love cockroaches
of the world
continue to shit and breed
all smiley face Vicodin zombie like.
This makes me want to kill
just thinking about it.
I want to kill a bunch of mosquitoes.
I want to rip out robot wires
and eat some fish
and choke
on the bones.
I want to wake up in mermaid heaven.
I want to splash around in the My Shit Don't Stink lagoon.
I want to be swallowed by God the happy blue whale.
I want to treat myself to a bonfire.
I'm worth $1.69 in today's market.
I might as well roast some puffy marshmallows
and suck the sticky
from my fingers.


My Insanity

seems larger than yours because it is so...out there. Like the big butts that some men love. Your anaconda is cleverly hidden and waiting to swallow Owen Wilson or any other hapless unwitting prey. Jennifer Lopez could never kill your monster. I like how you try so fucking hard to convince people that you are right and always. That shows a remarkable lack of class
and style. I basically slam my plate of overcooked eggs and raw bacon down on the chipped formica and say,"You want beer with that? Eat this in remembrance of my take me as I am bravery. Or don't. There's a cleaner diner down the street a ways. Plays the greatest hits of Michael Bolton 24/7."
See, all of us with too few exceptions to even mention them are roiling with toxicity and constipated with confusion. Some people will love your ass regardless and they are to be treasured. There are a few monsters among us
but most of us are just survivors trying to console ourselves
with smiley face pancakes
and mediocre coffee.

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