*We’ve Come For Your Galoshes*Paul Siegell
Going bowling with a roll of toilet paper, there’s a no smoking sign on my book of matches. Last year at the Folk Fest, Luke said, “A funny thing to say to someone on acid:” He pointed to the ground and then, “Get outta the fire ants!” Up ahead’s a guy who just inadvertently spit on his dick while seducing the urinal, waiting for piss. Earlier, someone said, “Blood, Lincoln lost lots, shaving at a Chevron station.” Chem lab scavenger hunt. Gutter ball and then a spare. Wondering what’s to pick inside my nose, smells like someone had asparagus, then peed all over the place.
Paul Siegell Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2022, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|