My life is somber
like those blues of Picas
so
so
I will treat you
to the most beautiful
of my suicides
I already hear
the staccato laughter
of Rimbaud at dusk
and Giorgione
playing the luth
to a Venetian maiden
and my father a sudden barfly
singing guarachas
to a jiggy Silvia Plath...
May I have a drumroll
while entering
in Hell?
