Expecting Everything That Comes Out Of His Head To Be F 'In Brilliant Poem by Ted Sheridan

expecting everything that comes out of his head
to be f 'in brilliant would be more than a little redundant
in theory if not down right ignorant of the reality
the dim bulb burned brightest at night with a glass of red wine
while the ambient temperature of his brain
was a cool ninety eight degrees and the wine
served only to warm his toes and fingers
both of which were numbed from the neuropathy
of overdosing on alcohol binges intermingled with
poisoned rat treats which were suitable for eating
or breathing in a small but enclosed tomb with a dozen twinkies
(Twinkies will stay fresh for thousands of years)
like the one his remains remain preserved in
and although
the embalming process has not yet been completed
he still looks like a million bucks with his plaster of paris
replica of his spleen and his appendix which were both removed
by an over anxious doctor of medicine
when he was younger and more agile in his ability
to maneuver in and out of traffic jams just outside of san diego
with the aid of a talented twelve string guitarist
and a hemi head two door sedan licensed
in the name of the late james dean and his mother
who had always claimed he was their love child
though his adopted dad insisted howard hughes was his dad
and recalled stories of obsessively long trips to the bank
to cash the checks which were then used to pay
the zombie milkman and the vampire maid.....
both of whom had never met one another.....until now.


2007 © T Sheridan