It can be annoying
like too much of anything,
and it can be bad enough
to make you not believe,
but its as real as every word
said of a credit card
found somewhere on the sidewalk,
with a safety pin jammed through it,
like a fish hook, stuck in something’s gills,
lost somewhere
in a river or the sea,
but do not speak to me
that’s never been my name.
It’s an eye suspended
in a bottle of dark blue perfume
she was given as a gift
by someone no one else
can ever quite remember.
It always floats so it is looking
at the wall and so the only thing
the room can see is the point
at which the veins converge
and fractal out across
the empty iris.
She always said
that if it hurt you
try to think about it further.
What about it was so painful?
What about it all
has made you
so afraid?
Just go ahead and buy
what the commercials
have all been asking you too.
I’m sure tomorrow won’t
be any worse without it,
but why miss out on this,
new answer in the making?
It can be yours right now
if you ask for it.
All you have to do
is lick the plastic square
now on the screen
and hold your screams
until the light has finished flashing.
Teleporting Typewriter 