"Justin Sirois Added You as a Friend on Facebook"

Thank You, Justin Sirois.
Your name is sensuous on the tongue.
I like it when people add me on FACEBOOK.
It's one of the things that tells me
I exist. Another is waking up,
although dreams are more pleasant
than waking life lately,
so the overused Yeats quote
comes to mind. Dru
started a flea war in October.
I think we finally won.
I think it was a pillow
I bought at a thrift store
that was the plague-begetter.
Why didn't Nostradamus warn
me about this? Fuck You, History Channel.
Eight years without a flea
and then total fleaskrieg.
It nearly sent me to the mental hospital.
FACEBOOK keeps suggesting I add
certain people with whom I allegedly share
216 or 211 friends but those people
Facebook suggests are usually
the five or six people who
are still pissed at me. Bipolar days
made me say silly things sometimes
to people. Sometimes I was right,
sometimes very wrong. That's why
they call it BI-polar. Like a seesaw.
Some poets are more forgiving than others.
The more hateful ones tend to see themselves
as exotics, arrowana fishes, they
have funny eyes that glow in the dark.
Their afterlives will be cold slave cereal
but they will still be swimming
in the bowl, scouting contacts.
You know who you are. You live
in cities like Chicago, L.A.
and New York. You move beautifully
in restaurants, but not always
so beautifully in poetry. You
are thrice divorced from nature,
poetry and ambisexuality. You
are male by default and you dream
of a basketball made entirely
of pussy skin. ADD ME ON FACEBOOK!