TO FURIUS AND AURELIUS
I know, boys, that you'd go to Timbuktu
for me. To the North Pole, the South one too.
You'd mingle with Jivaros who shrink heads
Or with the gentle Japanese, whose beds
are hard if you're not used to them. You'd go
look at the Pyramids, eat Eskimo
cuisine, swim with piranhas, burn your feet
on Iceland's lava. If you want to treat
me right, you'll go and tell her, where she fucks
three hundred men queued up - The stupid schmucks
she drains the juice from them and breaks their balls,
up that back alley with the come-smeared walls -
She snapped my heart off, like the flowers some man
drives over in your garden in his van.