Boona Daroom
Black Friday
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I actually think
We are going to hit The mall because The gamma waves Have fried us. Visibly trembling Vendors are putting Signs In the windows Like battened hatches For a storm named Now. From the moment We arrive in the parking Lot we are dumbstruck By landscape rife With supermarkets And lingerie. Whatever. I am eating some gluten Because people don't win. Hot trends markup due To leftist associations Like lake water passing Through a hung jury. Two girls pretend Ken and Barbie are fighting Over how she should Do her hair, as thus Un-necessity impresses Upon our brood phallic Ideals of female purity. I am pretty blown away At how hot the white Steam is hissing from the RadioShack. 16 different Televisions going at once. Sometimes triggers stick But sometimes they don't And yet, we are surprised When a child puts one foot On the asphalt and sprays Bullets. There is no help In my phone but I’m hugging And guzzling Irish coffee At local gladiatorial contest. Protesters have gathered In the streets, I guess In hopes our fates will Be lifted monotheistically. I am surrendering. I am stuffing as many Xboxes as possible Into a massive trunk With a bunch of Golf balls before Our time is up. Go ahead, exit Whenever you want Wherever you want. Run for your life. |
It's Only Life
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I don't have
A rainbow Of dead bugs Or a landline. In hindsight Falsely positive Concussion tests Sound of airplanes. There is a trick To being fast In rough patches Namely the Ability to employ A combination of ducks And projections. The Plutonium stockpile In my heartland had A small health scare. Scattering in zigzags Like pythons Go the members Of the Secret Lodge. I strap on my Flak jacket And flick butts On a lawn In Salt Lake. The problem with This El Niño is my Upturned boat In a Petri dish That breeds base Needs and wants Which realize a real Time bedwetting Epic. The world Is invincible And pulverized. Wireless adults Intent on drinking Themselves to sleep Most nights are Getting married At the H&M. Houses mold A plethora of Odd footprints In the gardens Because, once We are dead, There is no noise. |
BOONA DAROOM's work has appeared in LIT, SOFTBLOW, Monday Night, among other places. He lives in Brooklyn.
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