Granite Teeth Marble Cutters

Two cans rolling like fat tuna on a skid
And I think I’m nowhere near done.
The songs I sing are blaring in my ears
In a cotton ball fog that will ring for days.
I take a shot for the team
From the liquor well of a bare midriff—
Belly up, I am glitterpuss.

No clue that the laughter fueling me
Is bone poison and pickle juice—
We take photographs without film.
I pick loud blue streak fights
Sliding down imaginary sides of a marble bar.
People scatter from my stagger
Like bird-dogged pigeons.

One more birthday toast,
And I reverse the whole fucking process
Underneath a dirty table
Alone with barf-covered shoes and heels.
Two big black t-shirts haul my ass out
And dump me on a parking lot mattress—
A complimentary one second jump

On a two second bungee cord. I count
Nauseated sheep with an acid highlighter
Only to wake up in hell
Looking at my naked foot
And a bloody skull.
I traded a tooth for a phone number
From a girl with no name.