Punkass Daddy

Sweaty bluish prickle
on a pale shaved head
topped delicately by
a cone of coiled

finely braided ropes
of hair – shiny black
embroidered strings
of tiny beady bumps

against a bareness –
elegant coiffure
bespeaking Egypt
on a rocker boy –

rangy weedy dude
behind the pramful
he is pushing on
First Avenue of baby

joy – toy and product
of his loins – infant
cooing and enjoining:
braying at the day

as if there weren’t
any other way but
to be in the grip
and saddle of his

punkass daddy. Life’s
a feast of spillage
and glitches. Sweet
East Village bewitches.


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