she worships in his picture album skinny infant
cherubic boy blowing out candles young man in Captain's uniform
her adoration a mattress lumpy in the middle
he struggles up from "Mom! I'm not a hero! I don't want to go!"
sinks back to gorge
the peanut butter cookies she knows he loves best
"my manhood blooms" he wants to tell her
"Bob Dylan wet acid dreams Scotch at the corner liquor store
rages in parked cars motel rooms the girls you warned me about
the girl he picks up at JOE'S does not
really remind him of his mother
her hair is dark she is skinny her eyes beseech
she wears a yellow flower
her house smells like peanut butter
she has just made cookies for her sleeping son
and he can't help cuffing her to the bed
before he climbs her eager buttocks
to caress her throat with his tie
"Wittgenstein!" he exclaims "that's the trouble
you haven't read Wittgenstein!"
and he pulls the knot tighter and tighter.