Hello, My Brother Gemini

hello, my brother gemini.

your postcard in my letterbox

has a sullen shade of brown that bothers me.

all words discreet, they spell of little new.

should I assume no change has entered you?

although I see you no longer have a beard

your eyes still show the dark voice of your chin

reeling in all flowers of the flesh you hold within.

is disorder still the order of your days?

it was the many waves of petulance you swam

through the thinnest slice of ham

that dragged you to the casket of despair.

you have dyed your hair. it is black. it is obscene.

you look well enough to die, that pleases me!

my bitterness still haunts each step you take.

I am now a self-obsessed bionic plague

a germ with metal plates in a paupers grave

still whistling my diesel-tunes

each merry month of may

where my hermit crab

comes dressed as Salvador

and paints my room

in memory of you

my very own

black paws of kangaroo.