from 25-cent CASH by Jerimee Bloemeke

I don't want anyone to touch their face except me.
Plastic surgery lasts a lifetime save for mine.
So that, when I think about faces, I think of that
question that asks questions. Generally I feel like someone
I will not mention by name whose work and
cutting edge style I despise for it's entirely
fake if not honestly so. And in this current hatred
I realize there is a fine line yet at least
I am not talking to myself or you. I could
try to find the one good thing about this person
but so many of the bad things get in the way
it ruins his work. For me, it is a thrill to admit this.
And if you are reading this work isn't it thrilling
to wonder if it is about you like in that pop song
about vanity by Carly Simon? And when you read
the women's magazines do you imagine their
clothes on yourself? Do you imagine yourself
on the back of his Kawasaki Ninja cruising
along that strip in front of that ocean
with scribbles of white caps like tears
in the dark blue water? Do you take your
mouth off your face and put it where
you have already removed her mouth so
you can say the things she has already said
or do you just put her mouth on yours.