Long Nose Pinocchio Bitch
No long-john sense of humor
is gonna long for this room.
Are water balloons good or evil? That’s what
Italian tai chi is asking you, boy,
in your sleeping bag with your Pulitzer Prize
attached at the grunt and push, stepped-
up nose like the biggest icicle you never
saw in the mirror, no matter how hard you rubbed.
The bitch rooster’s on TV until
the pink gorilla sprouts headfirst from
his pink rabbit jacket painted pricks and
the man’s face in its pirate mask
sees Pinocchio with his broken cucumber.
"Whoa," he says, but the earplugs keep
the lies pulled through and gagging.
That eyebrow’s definitely made of pine.
Freckles are sprayed all over and swept away.
That sad throat, that long perk
is a deep black e-mail nursing her
in Pinocchio’s actress hands.
Ringlets: extremely shallow.
A stale patriotism spirals up
long-distance to the conscious nose,
clawing like it missed what she’s made of.
Sally’s stomach was long and tall,
like a sharp soldier made of e-mail
or a blogging silver spear.
Close up [close-up]: a national valentine.
The thing about a hairstyle is it can catch on fire,
say Inspector Gepetto and General Melanie,
working hard at the zoo
for an iced coffee and Shelley’s alias.
That long-haired inseam’s my Barney dog,
reading horny lollypops with its nose like Winnie,
a starchild prostitute, a Scorpius pumpkin pie:
my arch-enemy Jimmy, my Pinocchio face.