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Postmodern Village
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Muffy Goes Punk
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

to Cari, the next tattoo is free, honey

Vegas boils over with the deliquents you love
every night they eat buffets, drink Vodka
stuff a five down the string of some girl
who's not even getting paid

and you are that girl
called a whore by your mother
you lost it to the neighbor's cousin
when you were twelve--he's the one
who dubbed you "muffy"--
and again to your boyfriend
after graduation

flipping a souvenir coin from the Luxor
in the lobby of my shop
you grin about your loving home in Oklahoma,
your boyfriend who thinks you go to UNLV
and calls every week from the noise
of his coed dorm

you tell me how you hide who you really are
I think you just love being a bitch
you want me to pick out a pattern
that reflects your wild streak
I think you just love being a tease
you don't flinch at the needle, at the low
scream of Joey Ramone when I color
in the dragon's tongue

I wonder how long I can keep you a secret,
the room littered with carefully-sealed
waste needles, my shoes under yours,
and a bra rolling like Niagara
off the back of the cold metal chair.

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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