the last thing you need is a friend like me
covered in orange juice, maggots and other things
worse than you’re able to imagine in polite company

a friend like me full of odd ideas about the nature of
breathing, the purpose of a fibula, the destiny of a man
in a black jacket sitting on a jetty in november

me plastered with tracing paper and aspirin
uglier than you want to picture even for a laugh
under a fading moon on a frigid night

that’s the last thing you need, a friend like poison ivy
irritating past the point where you want to rip
off your skin and bathe in rubbing alcohol

I feel the maggots eating away the dead parts
that used to be as much me as my fingers are now.
I am happy they are full. I imagine you watching them eat

a friend like me, with ideas, odd and otherwise,
fermenting until the truth nature of man is revealed
in the awkward nudity of words and impolite heavy breathing.

you, plastered on orange juice and vodka
more beautiful than i want you to be, but still
i take a picture and say something about destiny before I leave.

the last thing i need is a friend like you.