Pepperoni Pizzas & Salsa Dancers Poem by Bob Genevro

Pepperoni Pizzas & Salsa Dancers



my temples throb
to the swirling potion of salsa dancers
to the hypnotic beat of trumpets
the crimson fire of my heart
the intense pain in my bladder
fill my brain with thoughts of
melon collie

i'm tired of
g i joe commando units
aiming their rat-a-tat-tat mattel
machine guns at innocent emaciated
white tooth debutantes
from beserkeley

i'm tired of
my mother
in my dreams
she plays rich little
playing rita hayworth leaping
on restaurant tables stomping
a fiery flamenco barefoot
on half-eaten pepperoni pizzas

i'm tired of
southern california dreaming women
who hang posters of snoopy &
beethoven over their toilets
while wearing victoria's
secret brassieres
they contemplate contaminated concoctions
from the 'julia child / yan can kookbook'.
oh the grandeur of it

i'm tired of
nuns head
dresses designed by sally field
blessed by pat o'brien
piety & sank titty r their names
grumpy sneezy n dopey their gods
holy water is sprinkled on their chest
to deodorize their drippy stale sweat
seeping thru black virgin woolen santa
theresa robes
life is very cheap

but most of all

i'm tired of
this poem
when will i get a word processor that
prints punctuation marks &
capital letters?

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