PASSPORT INTERVIEW (OR THE "ARE YOU BROWN?" TEST)

Imagine we are at your house;
what colour is the front door?
When we open the front door,
what can we see?
Give me the guided tour.

Where are you going? Anywhere hot?
And how long for? And who with?
Does her husband know the pair of you
are carrying on like this?

What does your mother do?
And how much does your housemate earn
a week? What was the balance
on your father's last bank statement?
A dinnerlady then.

Excuse me a moment please.
I just need to take two of these.
I have a migraine coming on.

What have you eaten in the last four days?
When did you last dream?
When did you last have sex?
Or commit adultery?
What do you wear to bed?
Describe yourself naked.

Place your finger on the fingerprint reader.
This photo seems to be in order.
I'm sure we'll let you across the border.
If you'd been brown
we'd have given you murder.

Imagine we are at your house.

WILLIAM CHARLES EVERLOVE BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

William Charles Everlove, 28 years old
STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN VIA ARIZONA, $40

He was never here
He never came
He was a ghost

I was never intimate
I never inhaled
I was alone

Somebody was never in the room next door
Somebody never heard
Somebody was in Texas

He was never anyone
He never lied
He was nothing

I was never told where he went
I never cared
I was important

LULLABEATLES

for EMA

1.

Rock-a-bye Lucy,
a boat on a river,
tangerine trees,
marshmallow pies.

Cellophane flowers,
kaleidoscope eyes,
diamonds with Lucy
marmalade skies.

2.

Hush little egg-man
don't you cry,
you'll be a walrus
before you die.

And if those pigs
can't run from guns,
we'll kick Edgar Poe
for fun.

3.

Diddle-diddle Desmond
market trolly
went to bed
with market Molly

Life goes on
and life goes on,
Obla-Desmond
Obla-Molly

4.

Twinkle, twinkle, understand
how I wanna hold your hand.
Such a feeling I can't hide
feeling happiness inside.
Twinkle, twinkle, be your man.
How I wanna hold your hand.

CHRIS BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Chris, 28 years old
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, $30

As I learned early
to draw the dollar -
an 's', 
some numbers
and two vertical lines,
with Chris it was simple

It was like he had rehearsed.
His small hands
unfastening my button fly,
reciting a four times table
by rote.

We met no more than seven times
according to my diary
when he 'disappeared.'

Afterwards, my journeys west
grew short. I felt
his breath behind my neck the one time
in the car and saw his shadow
in the parking lot

lengthening towards me.

OH WHAT A LUVVERLY WAR!

Oh what a luuverly war we had!
Didn't you go and weren't you glad?
And wasn't it muddy and wasn't it sad?
And wasn't you hungry and hurting bad?

Oh what a luvverly war we made!
All the fun of a hand grenade!
Fetch the shovel. Fetch the spade.
Bury the sacrifice you paid.

Oh what a luvverly war that's gone!
Let's plant poppies for everyone.
Let's build graves til Kingdom come.
Then bomb each other just for fun.

Oh what a luvverly war that's here!
It's been coming a hundred year,
since the silence became the cheer,
and black shirts grin from ear to ear.

THE NIGHT WATCHMAN

I was talking about suicides and governments

and cities in foreign countries and listening

to Bruce Springsteen on vinyl. I was thinking

 

I'd been smoking for two weeks straight

and that was my run. There was nothing on the road

that night. Nothing on the other side.

I was worried for my friend

who was caught up in a friend 

they were worried about. There were no motorbikes.

The road was closed. The bins 

had not been emptied and my nephew was learning 

to stand. Some people were walking their dogs.

High police presence. Cat shit in the gravel.

A pile of books. Empty bottles. It happens.

DON SPINELLI BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

His white sox. His post-soccer,
post-baseball attire. He removes his shorts.
Don is the captain of the football team
and I am the same nerd I ever was.

I start at his upturned toe,
lifted to make it easier to take in my mouth.
I am squeezed to the floor. His spit.
I am told I am worth shit. I pay extra for this.

Sometimes we never go further
if that is his wish.
I perform to his insults and fists. I am trained.
We meet in derelict factories.

His gay for pay eyes. His girlfriend at home. 
She counts my dollar. His dick.
His will not love me so I will not love him.