Hen Eggs

She stood before me
that cackle rising to
bleeding decibel levels,
in that instant my hands acted
on their own
proceeding to crack
the egg that had
encased my madness
for the last few months

Aborted yoke runs through my fingers
a stream of consciousness
that had been shattered years before.
That little red head that i took
in the back of a
piece-of-shit car
to only find out that the fetus
had not been mine but,
i footed the bill
to be thanked later
by drunk laughter
through a pay phone,
a fucking pay phone,
she fed me with her
obnoxious high pitch laugh
resembling
that cackle that cunt
slumped over in front of me
lifeless in soft-boiled pools
of my angry memories
congeal together

somewhere below
my praying arms
covered by sticky hair
matting memories
that never wash away,
just sizzle inside my head
forever with that
goddamn laughter
a radio station that just
refuses to die
despite the poor signal.

The cackle of static
drags on forever.

1995