new poem

Bingo

Everyone at
Bingo is diseased,
even the folks of my
friends, like my

friend Sal, his
mother Marge
is all about
Bingo, goes there every
Friday

until recently
when Sal's Dad
found out that Marge was
a liar liar pants on fire
and that

Bingo was not Bingo and that
Bingo was a bar and
Bingo was some other dude's dick.

My friend Sal,
his family

is

FUCKED UP.