An Answer to Li Po's Autumn River Song (and to our Poet Laureate, Davie):
By Percy Dovetonsils:
In the Houston Ship Channel
Drifting
through oil slicks
our eyes burn
like
prairie fires.
Where're
the hazmat boyz
when you need 'em?
My lover
takes a breath
and petrochemicals
line her alveoli.
'Whadya got to cut the pain, ' she gasps.
I pop the top
on a generic,
paddle my tube close to hers,
and hand it over
just before
a tanker
takes her out.
Important thing is
she died drunk.
