Maxing Out My Karma Credit Card
Zozzled on crows’ blood I bite off
their heads, my teeth tiny Bukowskis
tearing bottle caps from beers.
Time’s short. There’s hell to pay.
Creditors can sift my dust as soon
as I’m done pissing in the wind’s
Saran Wrap face, swaying on some
Holiday Inn balcony surrounded by
friends I just met. I fall in the pool
and my mask washes off, revealing
the alien inside me looking out
through mild brown eyes recording
everything I see and do and say
so when I die and report back to God
there won’t be any doubt about my guilt,
though I claim It’s not my fault.
—Mike Kriesel, Aniwa, WI