Love: a poem
Love is like a large piece of cheesecloth attached to a revolving bowling ball covered in fructose and postage stamps.
Love is like a black velvet painting of Elvis; except one of the sideburns is missing, the jumpsuit is on inside out, and Elvis is a black midget.
Love is like a made-for-TV movie starring Pia Zadora and David Soul as wacky, suburban neo-Nazis whose refrigerator is on the verge of breaking down while the dog begs for neutering. (Dog!)
Love is like George Bush’s left, not his right, but his left testicle swinging gently in the airspace over Panama, glowing gently like a neon ball or something, while the barefoot children beneath fill their buckets with chicken entrails and dream of Oldsmobiles and Saran Wrap.
Love is like Isadora Duncan, her svelte, taut, well-muscled body enwrapped in translucent, silk scarves suddenly swallowed whole by frogs with lisps.
Love is like bell-bottom trousers filled with lint, wax lips, empty Pez dispensers…but the lint doesn’t exist.
by Fish Karma (from the album: “Teddy in the Sky with Magnets” – 1991 Triple X Records)