Pez Dispenser Head Chinese Delivery Man On Moped

Composed on the 24th of November in the year 2007, at 6:33 PM. It was Saturday.

Pez dispenser head Chinese delivery man on moped

you are my hero


Little girls and boy in the tattoo shop

beside my cigarette break

drilled my ears with talking

beating chests paler than mine

carefully to avoid hitting thirty cent spiked

fashion adornments, carefully

to avoid dislodging appealing chain necklaces

smoking carefully

to avoid being caught by policing

parents


They go under the needle at high city prices

because they are sure they need me to know

they have giant balls


But You!

Your helmet rides on your head as a giant

white bowling ball rides a lane to dive into

pudgy white pins

shading your eyes half closed over the smoke

from your dangling cigarette

sparked before you even left the building,

maybe before you woke up yesterday morning


Pez dispenser head dispensing smoke

with no hot air

on a lightly jacketed frame in freezing cold,

you mount your moped lady with no unnecessary gesture

and ride into long hours


(I never saw him blink)


Pez dispenser head Chinese delivery man on moped

you are my hero


Your rocky face won't crack when you do your work

Maybe your head tilts back and dispenses sweetness

But for now it won't even tilt forward to acknowledge the


“That kid is so hard core” shouted by

the misinformed witness beside my cigarette break


I wonder if a taxi cab would bounce off your hard candy core

if it hit you on this raining night. I wonder if

you would get back on your moped lady with no unnecessary gesture

because your job

is too hard to allow for

proving how hard

your core is supposed to be


Your cigarette is no break for you

your smoke halo dissipates around your giant white helmet head

and your moped carries your eyelids that you don't bother to blink

(the rain moistens his eyes)

into the dark hours of the morning


Pez dispenser head Chinese delivery man on moped

you are my hero


Please come back and shoot these fucking kids

interrupting my cigarette break

because I don't have the nerve to tell them to shut up

If you don't work with your hands, you're a leech. Typing doesn't count.

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