Tiffany Lamp Gone Bad (2001)
May West liked good salmon.
Her bedroom had dark panelling
and lava lamps. Over her tables hung
racks of critics behind the bar
where bad service is largely blamed
on Texas. Her rental limo
was toothless and made me think of
camp. Such dim jerky tastes
survivalist or maybe all the songs
about trendy green plots gas up
through hanging smoke. Her hip
inquisitor makes a great square
room addition. I hear her voice
calling me claw-footed.
Her old man gives off a soft glow
low and sexless. Victorian.
Well cut by Jack like shards
of sour cream on a white plate.
This is a “Google” poem — a found text pieced together by search hit syntax snatches from a Google search of the phrase tiffany lamp gone bad.