1 poem by Sally Burnette

This is Fun/This is the Good Life (script version)

          Bruce Nauman, 1985

 

 

you’re not sure how you ended up in this fuck-room at this club arguing with a stranger about who wrote the brothers karamazov but he bets you a bump of what he says is coke that it’s tolstoy then googles it & you snort the mystery powder off the end of a nail clipper as someone slips one hand down the front of your jeans & the other in your back pocket & you elbow them in the gut & they yell something about slitting your throat & you run downstairs into the crowd & see your friend rubbing his ass on this guy whose hair looks wet but is more likely crispy or greasy & in the blacklight his gin & tonic glows blue bobbing like an incandescent buoy & you can’t stop staring really it’s like your eyes can’t open wide enough & a man at the bar buys you a jägerbomb & you hold it close to your heart you swear you can feel the red bull bubbles through the cup or hear them yeah you can really hear them effervescing swirling in your cochlea

​

you’re okay          

you’re having                   

fun                            

this is              life

the good