Boom Chicka Wow

This damn job.
Swear sometimes,
I got a life
like a porno —

perfunctory talk
till the tired obvious
mechanical stuff
takes over. 

Bad soundtrack too,
most of the time.
It’s not like music
as much as it is like

cheap hotel wallpaper.
(And now we’re back
to the boom-chicka wow
action.)

It’s supposed to be 
ecstatic, but
it’s only a 
simulation —

look at us all,
golems hard
at work screwing
and getting screwed.

If I’d half a brain
or a whole heart,
I’d get out and take
a new job — maybe

delivering pizzas 
or cleaning pools.
Something like that.
An honest living

without expectations.
Something clean
for my hands to do.
Something

with a future
that promises
real things.  Yes.
(Boom chicka wow.)