To Mercury, In Retrograde

Randall Mann

This ointment isn’t helping.
This clinic isn’t free.
The nurse’s favorite movie
is Penitentiary III.

I walk around in Crocs—
the wild parrots attack.
When all my gadgets fail,
I crash at Radio Shack.

A twirler on the pier
shows me how to juggle.
He immolates himself
before he asks to snuggle.

My wife’s a dirty hole;
my husband is the shovel.
And verse is not enough:
I’m working on a novel;

I bought a tanning bed.
My surface wounds are fresh.
My corner smells of hunger
and slathered, burning flesh.