Amazing Kong

Of my new job, oven burns, ointment and friendship found
at Easy Bake Pie factory, where my hourly pastry bake-off woes
dull and lulls the shift. Of sweat and gears, I cannot dwell. I see
your advertisement everywhere; the gifted fragrance owes you more.
I climb these buildings; seek you out hairy beast because I would
like to tell you about the obscene amount of cheese my brother insists
on serving me with dark cheap olives, globs of sauces, crushed taco shells
all grossly added to salad already a colossal syrupy tower of malaise!
A post-mayonnaise caloric drip. Because even saying out loud “syrupy foods”
well, that sounds disgusting. Let’s meet on top of the CN Tower, roll a powder
keg down the stairs. The Clockwork Orangutans are leading the Blue Jays 14-0.
Let’s fist fight in the bathroom and have a poutine throwing contest.
Let’s wear the wrong shoes and enslave each other to carry each other drunk,
awful, down the right street and watch us fumble with our souvenir Bluejay Bong.

This poem “Amazing Kong” originally appeared in Canadian Literature 216 (Spring 2013): 11.

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