Elliptical

I’m going back in the closet where men are empty overcoats.
- Groucho Marx

Ah, cram it, Nature.
We’re going back to the black lagoon.
Show me the way to go home,
I’m tired and I want to go straight to hell.
I’ve been trying on an all-night drunk.
The rummy tailor takes a chip off the shoulders
After measuring my worth.
I’ve composed a spiritual guide on toilet paper.
The birds have come back to harass the silence.
The winter has crawled into its aerosol can.
Camellia and lilac are opening like a cat’s claw.
At the industrial moldings manufacturer,
Elbow joints are piling up.
There’s a sparrow in the rafters.
The lights have been switched off.
I was tarred and feathered for speaking
Ill of the Master.
The mob was angry that day.
My friend, my sanguine lover,
Make me see, make my bright eyes nurture the world,
Make me shutter like a bug.
There’s sidewalk on both sides of the street,
And I have one foot on each.
A delivery truck tickles my thigh.
My first steps are shaky,
But soon I will walk with the others
Into the cedar closet to drain on hooks,
Hoping the moths turn me into Swiss cheese
Because I hate picnics so
And I never wanted to be one.