Mixture to push back the hair that was intimate with trash. She raises her head and glances up at the sky that She had noticed a few seconds earlier; and wonders Of the person who would throw away a nightgown And wilted plants, dented but unopened cat food, And scattered baby pictures-- But the cold wind pushes further into her rashed cheeks; And she drops the gown before she can mentally conceptualize The woman's possible image She digs further and... And opening Above where Two crossing jet Had each made an element Of a cross in the skies--- A third, now, and the Heavens appear to play Tick-tack-toe with their bad arts, Or do not know how to push out caulk neatly When hoping to seal out the heavens. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - McConico Through the hazy waters Of his hot bath, looking, he thought That his woman's pubic hairs Should naturally have come out More permed like his, Regardless of her color. The door being shut and locked With a rifle in front--still he heard From the living room a forum of senators' Televised voices discussing laws of limits In openness and freedoms And ramifications. He did not understand-- As the mirrors steamed, dripped Down from the air conditioning's touch, and resteamed When it shut off; And when he wondered what home owners Had used the bathtub before And what disease might be Dropping from the cracks around the faucet--that The fags would push down the American way of life. He did not argue that if they were isolated From the mainstream, their liquids might get off on any Products as they worked for the cost of their isolation In, for example, a barren region of Texas; And that the isolated would, by the testing of the Virus, be proven witches So there would not have to be witch hunts-- No, he just felt their destruction. And he thought of his woman In the bedroom, waiting, and became Forgetful of anything But the desire to have her. They had that freedom. The American constitution Said so---freedom to live and breathe And fuck and fuck.. Fuck so hard that the penis would Knive through the condom And spray-paint the man's name On the dull walls of the vagina. They had that freedom--those inalienable rights-- Her to be banged and to squeal To her friends that she was in love And him to white pussy And a gal that he could call his own... His woman. And if the initial M got ready To graffito-crawl his way out-- A problem for the rest of their years--- She could erase it, not remembering it With any more significance than Having clipped a broken end Of a fingernail. She had that right. Her man said so, and so said The American constitution.