by tom miller

on death and a duck

 

 

I’ll go out

on a sunbeam

or a

comet

 

but not

in an ashtray

 

not in an

empty bottle of beer

 

I’ll go down

in an explosion

of frightened

glow-in-the-dark

fish

or

evaporate in a drop

on a hotplate

 

hell!

 

I wouldn’t mind

a trip

down the toilet

in the shit of a priest

 

out and into the

sick green sea

 

but I’m not going out

in the thick puddle

on the sidewalk

of a young girl’s

first cocktail

 

or on a boat

in a pond

with a duck

 

and the afternoon

sun

 

shining sunbeams

of me and ashes

and beer and fish

and mist and shit

 

and vomit

and a duck

 

one duck in the pond

dead center

 

in the crosshairs

of my bazooka