Seven words for G.W.

Guantanamo

Guantanamo

Guantanamo

Guantanamo

Guantanamo

Guantanamo

Guantanamo

Object Of Respect

Tim and his brother Pete and I

Walk the streets of New York

The two of them Buddhists

And I wannabe maybe

I took the road trip with Tim down from Rochester

Thru-Way east and south

Tim winding his way till we get to 8^th street

Petes one room apartment

His Gohonzon, Nicherin Soshu object of respect, shrine

The main focus in the room

We bow

And fall out the door

Tim slides down the cast iron railing on the steps and gets

A black line down his ass from the dirt

We hit a restaurant and have muscles and beer

Then glide young down the street

They want to catch some strip clubs

Walking down 8^th , it’s crowded and a car going the other way slows

And hookers try to sell us

One without teeth offers a blowjob

Another jiggles her tits

Each the size of a nerf ball

We laugh and keep walking but I keep thinking

Of a woman that age with no teeth

We criss-cross streets and clubs till I am lost and drunk

We end the night at one joint where there are sex acts behind

Smeared glass, on red satin and gold

Two women, one eating the other

Whose eyes are open, gazing dead pan at the glass

Right

Back

At me

Dead glass retinas

I turn and grab Tim

“I’m done”

And walk out and back to the apartment

Drinking more on the way

They keep laughing at me, how I bolted

The next morning I wake up

The two of them chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo

Incense and a small bell now and then

As they chant texts in Japanese

Hung over I look out the window and see some old platinum blonde

Standing in the street in a white fur coat, open

Her naked body heaving puke out, I turn and go and sit

Knees folded under me

Looking at the Gogonzon repeating

Nam Myoho Renge Kyo