Victoriana By Robin Wyatt Dunn

I got a smell and it’s a killer cause I wet it on the afterjack, my reason is a pleasing dome for you to kiss at;  it’s serpent but it’s filler so let’s just set aside the mints for dinner and get into the meat:

Baby:  it’s too good but it’s the end, and I got to say I don’t know what it means, but I know what it doesn’t mean:  we’re not dead.  It’s the end but that’s because it always is. We chant and we arise.  Lover.  It’s good but it’s coming now to quits and we got to stamp the season on our mints, the spiking of the running quarter’s thumb — what do you call that? — the spikes along the wall, the thrumming of our call, we got to call the spot, five dollars down on the freeway —

East or west?  It’s west baby.  Still west.

Still a westerly is blowing in my name, and I got to say it’s not what I would have thought, it’s cooler and it’s colder and it makes my head erased but I am he who will not say the last embrace, I’ll just do it —

It ain’t yet.

It ain’t yet!

I got a smell of you!  It’s a killer cause I wet it on the afterjack, after I met you steaming fast into the shipping lanes of sky inside my heart and mind, smoking me and telling me I got it done.

Yeah, you can kiss my ass but I won’t kiss yours, but let’s leave it till after dinner cause I’m coming close to the little war we keep inside our pants, not sex but politics, a murder and an ace, not up my sleeve but in my anus, a bomb to bring into the city.

Honey it’s getting colder all these things the Victorians warned us about;  they were reactionaries, you know, they were building the empire and they were remaking themselves so fast it was unbelievable;  the original Futureshock, and they didn’t say shit.

They kept their mouths shut like the original mobsters;  cause they knew they didn’t know shit.  They didn’t’ know one fuckin’ thing.

Victorian.  Victoria.  1850 to 1900 on your afterburner tail, take my lover take me there — we got to get inside your cunt, we got to take those table skirts and put ’em round our lace and embrace the horror inside your gun, it’s the biggest one around,

I’m packing heat but it’s quantum, honey, it’s deeper than I ever wanted it to be, or ever could explain, I’m packing heat and it’s real bad, it’s cosmically enactive and it’s surgically enhanced;  it’s grafted to my brain but so are you, so come with me cause we’re gonna jump, we’re gonna jump to light speed lover but Victoria the bitch is coming with us —

© 2013 Robin Wyatt Dunn

Robin Wyatt Dunn lives in The Town of the Queen of the Angels, El Pueblo de la Reina de Los Angeles, in Echo Park.  He is 33 years old.  You can find him at www.robindunn.com

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