Stopped Up In Texas

Plunge it out
stuck
stock
stick
sometimes it’s stopped up
like a turkey, stuffed.
Stiff and smelly,
stinky like old rotten cheese.
Multiple times
never gets it out
enough it’s stuck and sick
like a dog overheated
in the hot sun but today
the air is gloomy and it’s 51 degrees
of clouds and cold and flat paths and looming dry desert mountains.

Stick it out, stick in Texas,
just near the border of New Mexico and Mexico; a land of tamales and brisket burritos hot sause and Tex mex tacos and taquitos. It is a land where everything’s bigger
cars/roads/houses/driveways/eggs/mushrooms/grocery stores/turkeys
and so much more. It is so HUGE that I couldn’t get lost, even if I tried. But here I am,
stuck.
Sick.
Plunge it out
stock
stick
slop
slip
into oblivion into too many people in one small apartment where there’s no recycling so egg cartons go in the trash, silently breaking my heart, quietly breaking the food in my intestines down so I can stuff it up once again. Is this fun? Maybe.

Or maybe I’m still stuck in dreams of my old Mexican boss who is relentless and keeps on threatening to fire me so I keep on walking and sucking up to her and I’m exhausted and I’m sick of it!!!