Jabba at Work

I come in through the sliding doors while fixing my tie, Jabba sits in the back of the room and waits for me.

“Are you going to be able to switch and work nights now that your days are clogged with temp work?” Jabba asks, over the crowded room.

It’s a crowd I’m trying to yell over, too– a crowd actually of people: mechanics, copier-repair lugs, boast-faced killers, McGraw-Hill reps poaching the old literature and in with the new, and the admin. class, freshly promoted from downtown office to show off here. In weird blazers they look like Scientologists at a language school.

“No, can’t do it” thinking now would be an ideal time to attempt a bait and switch: two dollars more an hour for a shiftchange, seeing as how they didn’t give me even a penny more last year, “though I do have a price,” I say.

“Jabba no bantha,” she responds. “Solo, you should have requested this at our meeting last week.”

“Thanks Jabba,” I say. Realizing my slip, knowing that no one calls Jabba Jabba to her face.

Troll Identification

Poems are made of trolls.
Poems are made of images of trolls kersnoodling
Poems flicker are made of images of kersnoodling trolls images
Poems imagine claims that trolls even kersnoodle
Claims hope their handlers know to kersnoodle
Claims provide trolls poems with even images
Therefore, trolls are what poems made of kersnoodling.

Sombardment

ENYE

You Went and Saved the Best for Last

Battles of Algiers

2nd Plane

The moon has not other choice but to be your fan

me digo que cual luna
hacerte hincha, presentáte
frente al premio
hay más gringo afuera
suelta la oreja de la puteria
no te da premio y recordemos, damas
y caballeros que el estero
el chancho no te deja vivir
el chancho no sale
de verde como alcalde de la mayoría
uy uy, que rica vease el verso
y vamos al jobean,
al suave pescar
dele petroliférico espinazo
trague al carajo del grifo

espadas en medio desnudar
de arriba para el aerobus,
se escapa el vapor

todos hacemos el premio de mayor
actuacion antes de ser aeromoza

lavanderia

se me hace de la
boca diarrea
pon la tapa, apreta
el boton dime
adios
chere
a los bigotes torpes

Cien! Anni Centi! Guapa!

Necessity requires
expo. Click. I want rock
from Chelsea.