My letter to Katrina

Sometimes I blame you

You inanimate twisted fcuk

Logic tells me there is no reason to use reason

To even consider the ramifications of your arrival

In the time frame of my existence as a personal vendetta

Or even a minor inconvenience compared to the massive

Level of clustered tribulations and overall bad ass cock-sucking rampage

You have besieged all the homeless, dead, and vagabonds

Left in your wake, however as a personal matter of selfish retribution

I would like to inform you that you suck.

You suck a sewerage pipe full of donkey shit intermixed with

Strands of discarded Aids’ patient syringes and clumps of home made

Child pornography video cassettes pumping out into Puget Sound

Choking orca and baby sea lions while spawning salmon give up

There kamikaze reproduction quests at the repugnance of your rancid stench

You are the chill on the skin of goose bumps rising in unison

On a mother clutching her infant child lost in the wilderness

As she is surrounded by a pack of starving wolves

Growling and circling a step before pouncing on her jugular

And the limbs of her newborn being torn apart like a rag doll.

You are the sound of laughter of a renegade pack mentality third grade classroom

Generating the crescendo of twenty-one eight year olds detecting the

Discoloration of khaki to dampened brown in the groin area of a little boy

Ignored by his math teacher that relieved himself in his own pants

Out of imprisoned frustration, ineptitude and embarrassment of nobody

Coming to help or allowing him to help himself.

You are the texture of an ass zit on Godzilla spewing acid saliva

Foaming at the mouth to devour a bus full of school children and nuns

On a field trip to see a play about the life of Mahatma Gandhi

That explodes out puce pasty puss in dump truck loads

Leveling the rafters of an orphanage and suffocating the survivors

In a bath of steaming lizard pimple slime that

Will cover the town in Bhopal-mold for the next decade.

You are the taste of the inner spasm of a bifurcating bacteria spore

Straddling a scrap of molded appam crimped under the gutter of an open

Air human waste drain laid out in the belly of Mumbai

That six starving slum-dogs fight over to consume

You are the sound of a thousand lies to a dedicated spouse

To cover up sexual infidelities

With the fifteen year old next door neighbor and seventeen different random acquaintances across the stitch-work of a marriage

Including a waiter at T.G.I. Fridays

That has anonymously transmitted

The acquired immunodeficiency syndrome

Across inundated impaled blood cells in a belated re-assurance encounter

During a Sunday morning church service to cover up the flood of prior transgressions.

You are the smell of the back of a 1982 Ford Fairmont of discarded

Burger King bags and mashed cigarette buts as a fourteen-year old

Girl from Kismet Kansas loses her virginity to the thirty-nine year old

Manger of the Dairy Queen name Raymond Blanco.

You are the movement of a needle injecting Mifepristone

Prompting a botched abortion attempt

On a third trimester child that is later strangled in a biohazard bag and

Hidden on a rooftop screaming to his own death in Hialeah Florida

You are the sound of a fourteen-year old boy named George

Who snagged his scrotum in his zipper,

Opening the door to the bathroom and calling his step-mother for assistance as the rest of his family walks in the front door from soccer practice.

You are the sound of finger nails scrapping bloodied concrete

Amongst a heap of intermixed soon to be deceased

Occupants of Dachau screaming out during the process of execution

Clamoring in stutters of broken Hebrew for God’s grace

Only to be drowned out by the laughter of indoctrinated Nazi bellows.

You are the sadistic grin on a lunatic named Dick tailgating an ice cream van

Patrolling a neighborhood, lurking and pouncing at the moment

A huddle of six-year olds lunge for their first bites into mutant ninja turtle popsicles

Only to push the midgets over to steal the frosty-stick reptile-replicas

Extracting a chomp from each frozen-head and smash them into the summer concrete

Just to see little faces cry thus scarring them from ever entering a

Baskin Robbins or a PETCO.

You are the smell of smoldering flesh in Hiroshima of melting newly-made orphans

That will grow up without parents and missing limbs and mandibles that will die of incurable cancer at the age of twenty-three absent of faith in humanity and always questioning why they couldn’t have just perished in the fallout

You are the sight of a wall of water barreling down a suburban thoroughfare

Chugging like a liquid juggernaut to leap up porch steps and pop windows like eggshells

To create blocks of pure humidity to turn photo albums into toilet paper

Prompting geriatric hold-outs to hike attic ladders with hammers to hold on rooftops hoping for a blind-eyed cavalry

You are the crest of a four-story wave arching with an engulfing claw

To drag everything but the slab into oblivion

Scattering random remnants of grocery bags and pajama pants to

Settle in the branches of two-story tree canopies as the tide subsides

You are the sight of a closing door in a thousand families broken apart

Because dreams were crushed under the pressure of your alterations

And tossed into a swirling toilet bowl of a future dammed to live on the cusp

Of Sisyphus style endeavors hoping upon hope that the boulder would just crush them.

I hate you for making us move and uprooting our little life.

For forcing no win decisions and promulgating suicides in drenched living rooms

And you are just water vapor moving in concert and speed without soul

Without remorse and in the cyclical silence you disappear

In a hit and run without exchanging insurance information

So yeah, you suck.