St. Vitus Dance

Take my ragged thumbs and plunge them 

into your skull sockets, feel my my body 
jerk
as your current rams its prow into the dock. Thus hooked,  I cab it 
thirty blocks 

to the impending crib

(no doubt already ominously thumping),

Firestones spraying rooster-tails that drench the shiny curbs.
In the backseat, I strap the razor blades to my sleeves 
and to my cuffs and pat my wallet stuffed
with bribes for the bouncers and when 

the BPMs coagulate into slurry
and the strobe lights make my eyelids hummingbird
I smash the glass, set off the sprinklers rigged
to baptize all the thrashing kids.
We unbuckle our legs and drop to the sticky floor
where we all flop like bleeding fish 

in the bow of a skiff, waiting for 

the thud of the oar, the harpoon butt of dawn
to slam up on our heads, to knock us stiff.