Very Bad Archive
Urea Cocktail Stick
Ace Kale
When we're alone
at the thrift-o-rama
I see faces reflected in the
Used enema cartons
And somehow, your stroke
Comes ever closer to my prized possessions
You're my boy, that's that
Our fate is sealed.
I liked it when you invited me to your house on Thursdays,
When we'd lay it all down and get to business
You'd heat me up a can of chili in the microwave,
I'd move my feet across your hairy sofa.
Take me to your hardware store way past 3.
I have it in me to buy some dowels, to measure and cut them down.
Smoke your cig on the bin-
Watch me walk past in the black of night,
While Ebony with her paste-on nails
Taps away at the eternity between us.
Again, you show me the ropes, the broken stereos, the knick-knackedy shit at the back of the place we call ours.
I can't help but slide the
Urea cocktail stick
you found in an abandoned martini glass
into the hole of my ear
To let it set there while I
Swim in the rootbeer brown of your eyes.
You're my boy, that's that
Your fate is mine.
Ace Kale has published 2 more terrible poems since joining on 30/11/99. Read more of Ace's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of Ace's latest works: