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Carla was on her break from the |
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Graveyard shift at the mayonnaise factory |
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She sat at a teetering picnic table |
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There was a toxic orange moon and it was slightly cold |
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Carla took out her knife and began etching |
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Random words into the table's surface |
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Then, she thought of her co-worker Jack |
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Carla liked to think of Jack as a luscious apparatus |
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He was meaty but graceful |
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His flesh seemed folded onto his body like a suit made of meat |
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Carla started to think of Jack as a luscious apparatus in a meat suit |
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Thinking this gave Carla a dreamy smile |
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Her mouth was small to begin with |
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But dreaming made it even smaller |
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That's just how some people are |
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Their mouths get smaller with dreams |
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Carla's small mouth was dreaming |
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As her knife began carving a poem into the table |
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I like hot voids, smooth pants, lazy beds in the rain |
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I like tongue petals, lather, a blistering sun |
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But what I like best is the worship of a luscious apparatus |
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When Carla was done carving |
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She went back to her work station |
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And scooped shiny white goop into jars |
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That's just how some people are |
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Their mouths get smaller with dreaming |
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The next day Jack took his own 1am lunch break |
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At the same picnic table |
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He noticed the poem carved into the wood |
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Although he didn't know who had written it |
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He coincidentally thought |
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'Luscious Apparatus' aptly described him |
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So he took out his own knife and wrote |
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'Luscious apparatus was here' |
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After a few days both Jack and Carla |
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Happened to sit at the picnic table at the same time |
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They both started to look at the things carved in the table |
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Then they looked at each other |
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They knew who each other was |
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Carla's mouth got small and dreamy |
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Jack's eyes got round and hot |
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When they got done with the graveyard shift |
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They went back to Jack's apartment and had sex |
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Wordless sex, slow sex, fast sex, talking sex |
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Sex like animals have, sex like boys have |
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Sex like girls have, sex upside down, sex inside out |
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Sex with grins, sex with tears, sex, sex, sex |
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Then she noticed the knife by the side of Jack's bed |
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Jack picked the knife up and Carla knew at once |
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That Jack's wounds were from carving himself |
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Jack was trying to carve poems into himself |
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And now he wanted to carve some in her |
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This was where she drew the line |
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She'd have any kind of sex but not with a knife |
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When Carla refused to let Jack carve her up |
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Jack felt cheated and misled |
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He felt that by carving a poem in the table |
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Carla had been begging to be carved upon |
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Carla didn't see it that way at all |
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She got up and started putting on her clothes |
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Jack went nuts, he was coming at her with a knife |
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Carla was scared, Carla was shaking and sweating |
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Then, because she was small and could move fast |
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She ducked and Jack tripped and fell |
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And impaled himself in the arm with his own knife |
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He howled and howled and Carla got the hell out of there fast |
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Carla didn't think of Jack as a luscious apparatus after that |
