cock, drying him with a soft blue towel. A warm wind
plays over the boys body and the hairs float free. The
Mugwump puts a hand under the boy’s chest and
pulls him to his feet. Holding him by both pinioned
elbows, propels him up the steps and under the noose.
He stands in front of the boy holding the noose in
both hands.
The boy looks into Mugwump eyes blank as obsidian
mirrors, pools of black blood, glory holes in a toilet
wall closing on the Last Erection.
An old garbage collector, face fine and yellow as
Chinese ivory, blows The Blast on his dented brass
horn, wakes the Spanish pimp with a hard-on. Whore
staggers out through dust and shit and litter of dead
kittens, carrying bales of aborted foetuses, broken condoms, bloody Kotex, shit wrapped in bright color
comics.
A vast still harbor of iridescent water. Deserted gas
well flares on the smoky horizon. Stink of oil and
sewage. Sick sharks swim through the black water,
belch sulphur from rotting livers, ignore a bloody,
broken Icarus. Naked Mr. America, burning frantic
with self bone love, screams out: “My asshole confounds the Louvre! I fart ambrosia and shit pure gold turds! My cock spurts soft diamonds in the morning sunlight!” He plummets from the eyeless lighthouse,
kissing and jacking off in face of the black mirror,
glides oblique down with cryptic condoms and mosaic
of a thousand newspapers through a drowned city of
red brick to settle in black mud with tin cans and beer
bottles, gangsters in concrete, pistols pounded flat and