thomas fucaloro

How To Become A Greaseball

 

Roll, let the muster burst into rapid oxidation
suck in the light and let the lamp become staring
find a way to tumble on you but not tumble for you
ramble this mouth exudes too much, doesn’t offer
hope just scorched jargon rhymed with all reason
I am a connoisseur of fine hair-care-products and turning
the’s into da’s implode this sense of inserting my fallacy into
other people’s conversations and my license plate frame will say pepperoni
and so will my breath but my shoulder blades spit testosterone and let me show
you some nude photos of my partner standing next to a mural of the american
flag and watch the roll become stop. Watch the stop become will. Watch the will become stone. My tan lines all point to your tongue splits me right in two. Let’s buy a pizza slice together and have three kids. Let’s name them after all the saints who don’t hate everyone
as much as we do. Yes, let’s have a pizza slice. 

(Title-George Carlin’s “The Book Club”)

A Complete List of All The Things That Are Still Pending

My teeth                    

 

Fireflies                     

 

Anxiety

 

Fireflies                     

 

In the rain                  

 

Autumn

 

Sacrifice                    

 

Someone else’s          

 

Bones

 

Under                         

 

Standing                     

 

Scripture

 

Decimal                     

 

Points                         

 

Place

 

Insufferability            

 

Reliability                  

 

(the) Melvins

 

Skee ball                    

 

Anne Carson  

 

Mosquito Song          

 

Some infuriating

 

I can’t remember yet

 

irritant like tick bone bite.

 

I’ve often tried to find ways

to end it, to give reason to cause

and reason to claws, this sinister

a rainbow of vein-pump-

muster-spit, this ceremony

for one

to die

as two

 

Finding                      

 

The emotion              

 

In breath

 

Perceived as               

 

Dream and waking    

 

To find

 

It was song                 

 

(Title-George Carlin’s “The Book Club)

 

Marriage For One

It’s interesting
how you climb
a mountain so long
you never realize

collapse until you are
under it, climbing through
stone, you never realize
how dry spots

wrinkle the dishes
with rings of time
they are there and I
am here

staring at the dishes
from the registry
your who-cares-it-in-law
ordered and who gives

a fuck about what we eat
from, I as soon go paper
and get dinner from
Hot Bagels Deli

then spend one
more night drying
these dishes
with me.

(Title-George Carlin’s “The Book Club”)