When Katy Perry Used to Exist

When Katy Perry Used to Exist (An Essay)

I felt a rumbling in my belly.
I farted a fart and it smelled smelly.
A-tumble went my teacup
off the ledge of the suspension bridge’s
most suspended suspension,
when the possibility that Katy Perry
passed in that town car, or that one,
way far down below, struck my hand
at teatime, jarring loose the teacup.
My teacup went crack on bridge and tinkled
into the bay. A house divided cannot stand
because when hos use, pimps lose.
A popstar divided becomes a description
of what happens every 137.5 million times per day
in the fluorescent abyss we float in. Also:
A popstar divided cannot stand because
severed human bodies lack
basic motor functions. Perhaps the legs
retain the muscle memory, but legs alone
do not the popstar make. What do the popstar make?
Grandparents worried. Millions. Soufflé. Q & A.
Twinkle twinkle  in my car, I float by on the pop
stars. How I wonder what they are. As I listen
in my car. Kate Perry came to on me in a dream
once. Just once. The other times I whispered to her
revolting tales of children and baby animals
and she lost the urge. Boy, did I show her!
The popstars are around when the pomp starts,
they have to be, contractually. Pomp is no longer
circumstantial. Unless of course the circumstance is that
a popstar is present. Look, it’s all in the contract.
When Katy Perry used to exist
she wouldn’t have allowed this poem to occur.
She would found it totally something.
Wait, maybe I was thinking of Emily Dickinson.
Oh man, yep, mmhmm. I was thinking of Emily Dickinson
this whole time.

Leave Note / Reblog
Katy Perry Emily Dickenson Poem An Essay When Katy Perry Used to Exist Poop

There are a number of wanton tales of this beginning

There once way back once in past time a lady of the royal glinting plush robe sweeping in a wave over the fetid squires of the muck

and in this time of that sweep far distant a child woke in juniper a child whose very sneeze ruffled the robe so though none noticed

plying at the leather nipple leaned on her nubile head that milk coursed through to plump her own her breasts breast to breast

and abreast the Town Car where a reticent flag forgotten now wove and bowed above her reclined in the rear unaware of her destination

while trumpets tupped and lambs were fleeced in preservation of her journey she unaware reclined in the backseat slurping strawberry kiwi Capri Suns

and crinkling the foil package and levering down the window with its tint and veering the deflated cup tumbling in the unmown median

she winced at the brief sound and the royal arm dropped for the king’s breath knotted in his chest at the sound he did not hear

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The Burger King Our Katy's Beginning