Posturing Leprechaun On An Acid Trip

by Doug Draime

He looked like a
troll from under
the bridge,
or a leprechaun
on an acid trip.
His poems
aligned himself,
posing,
imitating
his beat heroes.
And his poems
were little frauds
dancing in front of
a mirror,
only reflecting
their counterfeit
selves,
like wax fruit
in a bowl.
We all knew that
his heroes
would have
eaten him for
breakfast, after
they shot him up
with cheap,
brown Mexican herion
and everyone fucking him
up the ass
like the boy toy for
the beats
he longed
to be.