Of course I avoid you.
Why would I want to hang out?
Sniffing around - looking for faults like a buck-toothed bloodhound
I know what and where my fault lines are.
Because I keep slipping into the same ones.
Your bloodhounds may have good sniffers.
But the eyesight not so much...
My faults, though significant, are not as wide as before.
I try now and again to stitch them up to stem the flow of blood.
I've also got some bloodhound in me.
That happens to be my biggest fault.
I can see your faults are a bit wider than before.
Have you misplaced your needle and thread?
On a night made of black sequined velvet
Missing perhaps more sequins
Than the years have managed to retain
The air smells of damp yellow leaves
Wisps of faux fog, dark chocolate
And late October rain
Oozings of lime green slime
And violent violet writhings
Under a strobing black light
And the orange glow of a face
Grinning with buck-toothed joy
Or slashed with jagged fright
Is that distant shout of “Trick or treat!”
Interrupting my jack-o’-lantern thoughts
Echoing outside of my head or in?
Is that the chill of childish nostalgia
Sweeping and creeping over me
Or the chill of the autumn wind?
Here comes Buck Toothed Chuck
from Hickville Street,
sorriest feller you
ever did meet.
Walkin' his flea bitten dog
down the street, scratchin’ his head
and flip flopping his feet.
If he asks for money
best say, "No way"!
'cuz it'll slip through his fingers
in less than a day.
He'll be spittin' tobackee
the whole day through,
'cuz he ain't got nothin'
better to do.
There goes Buck Toothed Chuck
from Hickville Street,
hasn’t had a bath in
over a week,
Best steer clear cuz' the
smell ain't sweet,
sorriest feller you
ever did meet.
Jennifer Lee
Was a flower girl in her young age
When her parents still loved each other
Or rather they were just better at pretending
She wore a blue dress and a buck-toothed smile
And today
She wears a newsboy cap and a cigarette
She works hard for nothing
And blames her father
Who she desperately despises
So, her life consists of ersatz energy and nicotine
While she is so far away from her juvenile days
She is not dressed in blue
And her front teeth fit inside of her surly lips
But the imprint of flowers she dealt
Is forever burned into her golden skin
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