Parlez Vous, Francis?

androids thunderclap to my raps

their hand claps brew storms like Mameluke tea

that’s a cardamom tea

mum likes to stir in the honey

I, infantile, desiccate cinnamon sticks

tongue em like licorice twists

I’ve never looked malefic, just terrific

the baby in waiting

last night it was all rainy

all of it

it woke me up

and put me down again

it rocked me out of my cradle and caught me

and my howling turned on the wind

susurrous, I told it some sins

all my androids listened in

streams of vulgarities

then I made love to those wheat thins

I brew tea like gray earls mow greenswards

I strive for abstruseness

for every reason the toothless smile

would it kill me to dial you once in awhile

I could pull out like a valet

parallel park in your fanny

we’d better not wait

it’s our first date so let’s inseminate

rubicund cunts

with café au lait

but the tea’s ready

and mum reaches for the pantry

for our honey

in its ursine depository

I’m coming, mum, coming for our honey