the leash i put on my ego is a noose by jesus moses

But I do not realize it until we are out the door walking
and we are on a walk called “pizza delivery”
>the transportation of unhealthy foods
>the placement of greasy fats
but I don’t give a shit
because I’m traveling over streets like Edge Water and Silver Lake
and my life seems metallic
>my life seems cold, smooth, and sturdy
but my coworker tells me the man on Edge Water is a “slob”

some people live on the edges of towns
sometimes these towns are in different states and countries
>driving one way, there is a sign that says “welcome”
>driving the other way, there is a sign that says “welcome”
these people have a very different sense of the word “home”

I dreamed last night
it was a nightmare wherein my dad was driving too fast
I shook him once we had stopped
shook his smiling face while he sat in a recliner,
I was angry and my brother told us to smoke weed
>but I wanted to be angry, and I know this
>because I wouldn’t stop being angry
and I shook my father who was smaller
and younger than in reality
>like he was an old photograph of himself

I’ve thought about a dream all day so
I am thinking of it when I pull up to the slob’s house
>I slide to the door in full metal consciousness
holding chicken wings and disgusting shit food like that
the slob answers the door and I am shocked into sadness by
his large white apple body with thin table legs
white beard and hair, pale skin and teary eyes
>a sad santa claus with a little dog,
>a very little dog who barks a lot and bursts through the door and
bounces off my leg
as the man snarls at the dog
and doesn’t tip me for the filmy bags of lipids
I present.

I become angry at the sad man because
I tried to feel bad for him and
he wouldn’t let me and
I am angry all the way down the road
>like I am angry at my dad in my dream
>but this time I don’t want to be angry
so I try to unhate him and
I think I will write a poem about him
and I think I will write a poem about him
every week and
I will dedicate a book of poetry to him
>and it will be called “I am sick on my birthday”
>or “unhating white santa claus the cheap slob” or
>“I smell the sauce of 30 chicken wings clearing my sinuses”
And then I kind of realize that
that man’s dog loves him and
even though he yelled at the dog
that dog will continue to love him
I became ambivalent
instead of just angry.
Jesus Moses has been published in “Screaming Seahorses” and won the Stark-Tinkham award for humorous poetry in 2009. Jesus is employed as a philosophy instructor and pizza delivery guy. He has an above average amount of nightmares, and he likes music.