Written in the Shadow of Francis Bacon’s Self-Portrait Triptych (1985-86)

1.

I haven’t got a clue
as to why
I woke up
in these clothes
someone else’s
cheaply manufactured
persona
bag of discounted
egg noodles
in one hand
throttling
dream’s sweet neck
with other

2.

I still don’t understand
how my face
ended up in the painting
that you are laughing at
while the rest of me
was tossed in the trash
Not even the bird
that whispers in my ear
knows the answer
to this ridiculous riddle
 
3.

And I still have no idea
why I am straddling
a broken tricycle
waiting for snow
to obliterate
this poem
Nor do I understand why
my declarations of love
are considered
unwarranted distractions
an annoying mosquito
full of venom
it doesn’t know it is carrying