Taking no prisoners. Including herself.

You thought you could escape it, huh? You thought, surely, this whole “poetry” fiasco that we were embarking upon over here at Not Keeping Score was a flash in the pan, over as quickly as teenagers making love. But oh no! Words endure, man. There is more loopy poetry for Project Sedation to be had, because, my friends, there are more narcotic sedatives to be ingested.

And, just in time for the big 4th of July weekend, we’ll be taking poetry submitted by our very lovely Readers (that’s you!) and posting the best (or in the event we only get two, then only two) of the best. True to our muse Mr. Bukowski, there is a parameter: the poem(s) must have been written while under the influence of, inspired by, or in ode to, various forms of intoxication. Sedatives preferred (no one likes a happy poet).

Happy 4th, folks! (Be safe)

The Burrito
I ate my burrito like Life
one large gulp
my mouth forming round around it’s rim
it was so sensual and passionate I was nearly embarrassed
even though I ate
alone the little
rice kernels splooging into my mouth
with globules of cheese, toothpaste-like,
trailing right behind,
my cheeks puffed like a trumpeter’s–
a sensory equivalent of the sound “pttthb.”

this is an odd topic for a poem, I know, but that’s
the way it tasted, the
way it felt. so
that’s the way I wrote it.

I was so proud of myself for
eating a burrito as one should–
and equating it to living a life as one should–
that I smiled while biting in and consequently
almost choked
(but didn’t quite)
but I swear if I had really choked
and died that afternoon,
this death by joyful-burrito,
I would have.
it would have been worth it.

it was drawn out like dancing
a beautiful whole-body stretch that forces
you to make moan-full sounds
or an anticipated kiss
lips hovering just before lips not touching
and when I swallowed those little pintos, they
tumbled down my throat like
dice released from sweaty palm
for the big win
I thought Vegas!
and perhaps you’ve never heard of a
burrito tasting like Life or,
even stranger, Life tasting like a burrito
but let me tell you
every so often
mine does
and I have no choice but to bite deep and
with eyes squeezed shut
silently as I chew, wish:
two sixes, come’on two sixes
give me everything,
two sixes

§221 · June 30, 2006 · Poetry · · [Print]

1 Comment to “Intoxicating, isn’t it?”

  1. Dubya says:

    In one bite? That must have been a small Taco Bell Burrito. On 16th by Valencia there is a taqueria that has real jumbo-sized burritos. I dare you to eat in one bite.

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