On being broke and bad at parties

Slip five bucks in my pocket and I’ll shock
the house with my imagination
Or bore with my insanity
Take magazine worthy cover photos
of you in your velvet leotard
your dog
and your fiancé
in your green kitchen

I’ll direct a movable play
If you have at least three rooms
With enough guests we can join
two tables together
and all the men can
wear Hawaiian shirts and bead necklaces
while they sit in the image
of the last supper
A photographer with his retina automatic
in the middle taking a picture reflexively
While in another room someone is
announcing about blood spatter and
conspiracies, orgies, and trust funds

But ask me about my hard day
And I’ll platoon
Sink into a chair
like a wet suit
and evaporate out of this life