And this one ...

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1.

Why doesn’t anyone smoke cigarettes anymore?

Is it for the sake of their health?

Nonsense.

The early thirties crowd is a scalawag lot.

Blockheads with neckties.

Dry cleaning and historical non-fiction.

Appetizers and bottled beer.

They have regular checkups

and envision their eighties.

They put on Pete Yorn records

and fancy themselves listeners.

They frequent MOMA on Saturdays

before stellar restaurant suppers.

They ought to be more afraid of dying.

2.

Let me tell you what I’m gonna do.

I’m gonna write some nihilistic shit.

I’m going to make my mother think I’m a Republican.

I’m gonna go all out against these new Obama voters,

the ones with gradual jobs

and opinions about sensible government.

I’m gonna write and breathe and stink and flunk and stick my dick where it doesn’t belong.

I’m gonna shove and spit and throw a fit and eulogize significance.

Then

I’m going to take it all back.

Grab a peaceful soda and a bag of honey pretzels,

turn out the lights in every room

and lock the goddamn door.

And while everyone else is hashing out the wreckage

I’m going to reset myself

for the good of the badness.