I: A Yard Behind A Bar, Casablanca, Afternoon
Sometimes I sit here ithyphallic,
god of the beasts.
The flies attend
and tortoises when in the mood
bite.
A geranium they threw out blooms.
We commune.
If flies were bigger, didn't wait -
like tortoises, say -
I'd be "food! I am food!"
white and gymnosophic.
Lord of the flies, a turbot head
begins to breed.
I smile. The geranium
nods.
