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I want to finger-bang my profile pic.

See-thru has to be all new
about the space between my heart.

But I just want to be invited to things.

When conversations lull, Cecilia volunteers
terrible things about me.

Wafting through
some sort of holiday lamé parade,
I enter the Paris of sleep.

Fellow travelers will deign us
child-like or disgusting,
and we will roll together
with our bodyguard-slash-dance troupe.

There needs to be some sort of Antabuse, but for food.


Dan Magers’s first book of poems, Partyknife, will be released in early 2012 by Birds, LLC.