Today's poem is by Eros Livieratos

The Party
       

I smoked a joint with a radicalized goat.
He spoke—sometimes deep, often without

hope. His mix of brown & white ears would
flutter when he reminded me how Mao thought

the body was a chariot or how Sankara thought
fitness was imperative. The goat was buff.

He kept rattling on about currency and social
capital, talked of vampires & their castles while I

sat in a muddle of hay, fingerpainting Bruegel
neglecting the diminishing returns of checking

my bank account. I don't get crossfaded
except for when I do. I drank a bottle

of peach whiskey which tasted a lot like
Splenda and fire—the rabbit who shared

her booze claimed to be a second cousin
of the goat who is now rolling on the dirtiest

ecstasy I have ever seen. Her gray ears
covered her eyes and her small body vibrated

when she spoke. She said something about
data mining and the new class or something

about the end of it all & a party, a great
big party and we're all invited—

you too.

Tweet
Copyright © 2024 Eros Livieratos All rights reserved
from Iron Horse Literary Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission