Seeing Frank is always trying
and the way he talks
I always leave feeling like
the dumb bastard has been
nibbling on my ear drum
and sticking his long spindly fingers
up my nose
to scratch my frontal lobe
in search of some how-to text
describing what it means
to be a human being.
I suppose it's not his fault.
Nothing is nobody's fault.
Not these days.
When I think about Frank
I wonder what the name is
for the disease (because
it's always a disease these days)
that describes exactly why,
whenever I am trying
to relax he hones in on me
like a fucking bat
and refuses to let me
leave in spite of all my
protests that I am
expected elsewhere
where he is not.
