Fowl: a mockery of "Howl"

Treasa Bane

 

To the coffee shop owners whose coffee is alright at first and then they wonder why their business fails, their business fails because they don’t want to take peoples order, they get pissed off when the line is longer than 3 people, they don’t like the gift cards they sell, they want cold hard cash, they hire 12 year olds who only care about weed, they shut down, they start back up, they move to the other side of town, they fuck up


To the hair cutters in salons who cut hair alright at first and then they started going praying mantis on you, cutting too close to the head, cutting too short or not cutting enough, charging extra, not bothering to wash your hair first, melting your ears off with the blow dryer, buttoning the sheet too close around your neck so by the end of your visit you haven’t breathed and you’re dizzy and stray hairs are still in your eyes and you’re sent to the counter to pay before you even glanced at your head


To my third grade secret actor romance, true as love is true


Pouring wet dreams into my too tight tennis shoe

 

Shoe carnival, what the fuck

 

Walmart, what the fuck

 

When the lizards take their pills

 

Tasting cement on the windowsills

 

You know the drills

 

Fucking three blade wind mills

 

To the self-claimed rappers

 

To the cell phone tappers

 

To the masturbators

 

To the French fried potators

 

To the experimental

 

To the fucking mental

 

To the weak, the strong, the weird

 

To the fecal matter, smeared

 

To the awesome movie dialogues

 

To the beer, pong, sex hogs

 

To the girls in movies who look peaceful while taking showers with smiling faces and embracing their

bodies while the real girl probably scrunches her eyes because her water pressure could cause welts if you stay in longer than 10 minutes and it’s not a harmonious experience at all


To the people in movies who talk quietly in bars like their having a conversation at a café rather than a techno, beat boxing, sound thudding claustrophobic space in which you couldn’t hear if someone cried rape or fire


To the people who talk way to fucking fast

 

To the people who talk about themselves

 

To the people who talk about their opinions

 

To the people who talk

 

To Dane Cook’s sexist, mental facebook statuses I never want to read but I end up doing so anyway


To the people who should keep their eyes on the road, but they watch you in their rear views, they ride your ass and as you’re turning you see their face turned 90 degrees for what? To see who it was? Do you recognize me because I certainly do not recognize you unless it was in another life when we were both cats

 

America the ice has fallen on your faces!

 

America you’re taking us to horrible places!

 

America! There’s stains on your pits!

 

America show us your tits!

 

Where Are you there god its me Margaret was banned!

 

Go home, Channing Tatum, you don’t understand!

 

David!!! Help me, I’ve lost my son at a garage sale!

 

Don’t call me anything. My body is woman but I feel like a male!

 

Strap on!

 

Rock on!

 

Get your freak on!

 

Talk to me like you’d talk to the dead air in a recording studio

 

Talk to me talk to me talk to me when you’re in the moodio

 

This poem is Fowl

 

Give me a howl

 

Am I hear

 

My boobs look the same, every year

 

Give me a sign!

 

Drop your eyes on the pine

 

Covered in wine

 

Sleeping with swine

 

“Kissing in the dark”

 

Echoes through Kroger, a hark

 

Harold angel sing?

 

I never know the words. Bring,

 

You’re hearts next time I see you

 

I know they’re small and blue

 

Just like your penis

 

Nicodemus

 

That was the rat in The Secret of Nyhm

 

I’ve lost too many secrets, to Bob and Tim

 

Bob and tim don’t exist for anyone else other than me

 

They’re the old men who dwell in my house, outside in the tree

 

Laughing at everything I say

 

This house is bugged, today

Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790