The Winner of the Edith R. Mirrielees Prize

Candy Corn Stripper

All's well in Roswell, where the dead make room for
the living and the Flying Saucers leave the cows alone,
for now. Now is not the time to marry Frankenstein's Bride
in a service performed by Elvis; better to stay on The Road
with Cormac McCarthy and avoid telling Viggo Mortensen
when we take off, he'll just ruin the trip anyway.

I wish we could just stay one night here without getting
involved in a big scene. Every night it's the cops driving by,
questioning the hotel guests about the shoot out, or
the guy who overdosed in 315. They never have these kind of
disturbances on Sesame Street. Why didn't we stay there? I guess
this is what you get when you pay for a stripper with candy corn.

The toaster wakes me from the dream I shared with Dr. King
as I pop off the couch and round up Alvin, Simon,Theodore,
and Dave to get to our gig on December 25th in Albuquerque.
As the bus makes a left turn, I sit down with the ghost of Bono
and paint the bus (red). My Ipod breaks and we can't lip sync
so we go out there and do it for real for the first time, and

in the front row, I see the Bride of Frankenstein. She waited for me!
I ditch The Chipmunks and give my baby a waffle iron, to make up
for what I did. She takes me back to her sorority where the vampire
sadomasochists indulge themselves with cottage cheese and handcuffs
until Officer Krupke takes me downtown for abandoning my band.
But I'm a good friend of Mayor McCheese, so I won't be here long.