spaghetti

the future me sitting on copper carpet searching through
enormous jars of pennies looking for a wheat, smelling my
hands for the metallic or the even more future me
spreading the clouds aside to peer down from my
controversial eternity thumbing my nose at the green
islands of earth breathing God, a cigarette between my
luminous fingers smoke can't hurt you there, naked,
thunderbolts in ear my enormous greasy toenails mourning
for the only girl i ever loved being held captive at the
bottom of the planet by aliens disguised as wolves who get
drunk on machismo and lick their lips over her, i ask him
i say LORD LORD let me smite them down for they are thine
own nightmares but the good father will smile and eat a
candybar and smudge the sides of his allmighty mouth with
wet, childish islands of chocolate.