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John Oakey – Teenagerdom

John Oakey

Teenagerdom

Mom is a shopping mall
of rotten peaches.
She doesn’t know skin
magazine
cartridge
of videogame
in my Jansport
load.

Ironic,
I apply
for jobs
that blow.

I unleash baboon on

nakedness
buried in mascara and
hugging sweaters
locked in hot
damp cellars
by androgynous toys.

Mom is:
bucking witches
too bloated for their brooms
linger in sturdy branches
spying.

Mom is:
Old man spider sits
on my head.

Yespleasemother
I will apply
I will spill blood
and get a
head.

Nothankyoumother
I’ll buy my lunch.

I live for sneaking in
windows (snort!).

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