Pet Rock (Other Beautiful Creeps)
Along with all the other beautiful creeps
we washed our hair in one another's mouths
then found ourselves sucked into hourglass quicksand
to emerge on the incrementally swelling dunes
below that pinched glass belt
We trod across the moss, trampled heather,
scratched the lichen from the boulders with
our jewel-encrusted press-on fingernails.
We tore pictures of eggs from magazines
and sat on them, hoping to hatch them into paper chickens.
We went to a children's theater production of The Bald Soprano
and spent the whole show dropping long strands of saliva
from the balcony towards the bald spot of a man below.
We rowed across each other's chests, digging our oars
into the rippling flesh. We dropped our lines and fished
for oily eels that writhe in the depth of the pores.
We saved our shed skins, wore them as crinkly stoles
around our hairy necks.
We threw back the shower curtains
hung across the stalls with zip tie shower rings,
surprising the couples having sex on the hoppers
without using seat protectors.
We held a seance to talk to the ghost
of the inventor of Skee Ball,
went to a wake for Gary Dahl
who held the patent for the Pet Rock
for Sand Breeding Kits,
for Red China Dirt
Along with all the other beautiful creeps, we swore
we'd never make another list again, and then
we immediately set about making another list
of reasons why we couldn't bear to stop,
as all around, the scattered boulders turned
their backs to us.