Angel Honey, Cover Your Mouth

He was a baby fresh doper

Pockmarks leaving

     plateaus for

Mama's grilled cheese:

     Salt & Oil,

Same things he used to 

     rub on his knuckles

     to fight the slugs

on the stone gnome outside.

And he'd put ketchup on 

     his lips

And grape jelly to stain

     one eye

And kick his squished opponent,

spitting Chiclets out of

     his mouth.

So that it was a true victory.

Now he spends time with

    thin-necked thugs.

The kind who slather their bodies

    not with adolescent condiments,

But premium, under-the-table

    Whale Blubber.

Slick film to slide out of

     tenement windows.

And they know what it means

to look at a 

     cashmere blouse

And "X"-

Mark the spot.