Slash Has Food Poisoning

Stomach / body / heart / every song
a prayer for a quicker death than this.

The man you were at dinner
does not care about you.

Bad gravy / tainted sushi / midnight tacos /
nothing between you and the mosh pit

but a wisp of smog and a guitar solo.
Every girl curls her lip, waves

a middle finger: young love.
The man you were at dinner

wears his greed like a leather trench coat.
Every song races toward its last note,

every echo leaves a man with more desire
than any body can contain. Sometimes

a man plays the hero, gets the girl.
Sometimes he settles

for a roiling gut / the kiss
of a toilet / porcelain against skin.