Nothing's too tart for this palate.
So long as there isn't a cover
I'm content to spread my cash
at the nearest frosted marble-top
that doesn't charge me a cover.
I only operate on ice bars
and I'm cruising for my next
Harry Winston. Something,
anything, to eventually give it all up
like they mean it. Am I driving you off
like gangbusters? Am I harshing
your buzz? Bad news like some shrew
you knew in high school, am I
basic, upper-middle? Are you?
I want to pull it all off. I'm the dude
and the ladies too, sweet ass
and good impatience. Sycophant,
I'll ask you how many times you've been
in love, and cover your mouth. Life stories
don't care for last call. I could use another.
That's how we are, we moody, sexy
madonnas. Hey, fuck you. Hey,
what are you doing after this? Hey,
what are you doing?
Kenzie Allen is a Zell Postgraduate Fellow in the Helen Zell Writers’ Program at the University of Michigan, and a descendant of the Oneida Tribe of Indians of Wisconsin. Her work has appeared in Sonora Review, The Iowa Review, Apogee, Word Riot, Drunken Boat, and elsewhere, and she is the managing editor of the Anthropoid collective.