You think I am perfect, but I’m not

I am a simple student
working toward
hunting deer, trapping pigs, and out-fishing
the great lords of fishing,
growing an extra shank bone
full of nutrients and marrow
so when someone needs a shank bone
transplant I will be ready to provide it
via my Russian connections for a fee.

you would not recognize me
in the swimming pool from my distinctive odor.
you would not recognize me
when I am in a dolphin’s embrace
for I become either water
or second dolphin giving the appearance
of a siamese dolphin making out with himself.

I have the kind of hair you want to walk in
barefoot, but cannot because it is obviously mined.

I do squats in the gym and make farting noises
when I am at my lowest point to help propel
myself skyward, and the meatheads are amazed
by my power and hang-time, and attempt to replicate
my technique, but just shit themselves and I have to
cut my workout short because of the stench.

I feel perfectly whole
like a healthy pet
floating in a large quart bottle or syringe
thinking “God, am I cute.
And I’m ever cuter on x-rays!”

I think your dog is licking you not to say he loves you,
but hoping his licking will eventually turn you into lumps of
ground beef he can devour.

Based on this, you think I am perfect,
but I’m not.

I cannot complete the wounds in your aching hands and feet –
YOU need to do it!

YOU need to push the nails in further all the way
out the other side!

Only then can we begin to answer
the looming question that all human beings must answer –
“What kind of gym is right for me?”

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