to become so beautiful that pictures of myself
fill me with a moment of involuntary hatred
to sculpt my body with the chisel of sweat and self-­abasement
to make of my perfect quiff a piggy bank
for to keep the patina’d copper pennies of time I could have spent on making poems
could have spent on making love but spent instead on making myself
a different self a useless self that sits on a shelf looking beautiful

to swagger so hard that the world swaggers with me
to drag the depths of swagger and find some forgotten bauble to call my own.
to suck swagger through a straw from all the way down the block
a swagger so thick it gaunts my cheeks to suck it

to be the billion-­dollar remake of my father.
to remember his beard and his hard face his thrift store clothes
and think yeah that was good but what if
it had more CGI explosions            what if it had more tits

to dole out drips of clickable wisdom
one hashtag at a time: tips for living your crispiest life
to discover something bloodier than diamonds
and discover something more than an arm and leg to charge for it.
to bathe in champagne or the blood of the innocent there is no difference
when you know you’re on your grind—when you’re really killing it

About Timothy Volpert

Timothy Volpert lives in Kansas. His work has been published or is forthcoming in Mobius, Kansas City Voices, and Stone Highway Review. He can also be found on Tumblr and Twitter.

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