Kid Talk

my interpretation of the tonguespeak–hanging off the edge of intelligibility–of a small strange child leaning over the booth at us in a restaurant and jabbering (as noted on napkin)

Kamikazees are allergic

back the vacuums
make it AAALL
and put away
all done
all gone

Kamikazzes are
allergic to
in my tummy
all the cheese
crackers are all gone
in my purse are all the people’s clothes
I copycat God
I aimed at the
daughters in
the brook
I spent a bender
and I take a
bubble bath
go swimming in the
cold with the pope

go fire beg,
big big cubby
best find death

(He emits a soggy
spit bubble onto the
pulpy pink orifice
emitting the sounds, at the
grinning girl i’m with)

I’m just gonna let you have em
You can just go live with her, O.K.?

Go walk

No, sit down


No, you eat

(He hands her a labyrinth and
picture of a
burger scribbled with crayon;
he hands her a creamer
and a fresh glass of
water–grabbed from his hand by patient mustache)

(Honey it’s nice that
you’re being friendly
but you need to turn around)

Where are you going?

You need to turn around.