Beers and Transformations

I left my small town,

warm breath dried on paranoid

lips, to die on diseased ground.

History, silent, alone

as maps, will deny my name.

I was taught to hide

the essence of who I am

to give no warning;

a pillow over my face,

a heart of barbiturates.

Man born of woman

always seems a clear lament.

A life concerns change.

What I couldn't chew, I drank.

Like all drunks, I loved all life.

You upon my flesh.

This grin upon the tablet.

God upon our souls;

brutality, gentleness

beers and transformation, blend.

Women to men are

interchangeable, voiceless,

homogeneous;

an anonymous body

an essential distraction.

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