implies the existence of paid
association and correct me
if I’m wrong but I’m pretty
sure that’s how Shaquille
O’Neal is making all his money.
It seems like each time
I pour a bowl of cereal,
Shaq emerges from my
air vents and asks if I’d
rather eat the new mutant
fruit he’s been growing
in his closet next to his
shoes the size of bread
loaves. I can’t say no!
The ways of making
money in this world
aren’t very good and
precious few of us are
happy on weekends, so my
only hope is to run for president
of poetry which I don’t
really deserve anyway.
I can hear you now: don’t
sell yourself short! but
anyone having to sell
themselves is exactly
the problem and it’s hard
to feel anything but short
when Shaquille O’Neal
is constantly standing over
me shouting my new colostomy
bag is a slam dunk for
your excrement! I’m not
sorry, I’m just confused
why gambling is illegal
in so many places when
that’s just what being born
is. Please don’t be mistaken.
I have nothing but love
for the air-throttling
Aristotling diesel Dr.
Daddy Mayor McShaq—
the crack-a-lackin’ always
attackin’ comptroller
court controller president of
dunketry, O heavenly father
of oddball endorsements
and 52.7% free throw
percentage, you tweeted
once that the Earth is flat
and dammit I believe
you—this world is yours
Shaquille, flat and shiny
as a basketball court
with all its peach trees
and double-dribbles—
thank you, thank you
for letting me frolic
through your garden
with James Harden,
driving constantly
towards a hoop as tall
and beautiful as you are.