The Neon Hollywood Cowboy

the night i punctured an artery with a syringe tip,        cuspate sharp like clam exoskeleton, the california dusk

was electric. my mother cried from her ohio bedroom,imagining her only son dying under the belly

of west coast porcelain. when i lived at home, i would ask her        where the backpack of scars living all over her body came from.

from carrying you, my child, she would say.

        when testosterone enanthate was removed fromillegal doping markets, the number one song in america

was "honky tonk women," & los angeles livedbehind locked doors. my mother could feel the needle

        rupturing through my transversus abdominis, the splittingof skin like a kitchen knife tearing through leather.

my chromosomes, graffitied with an avenue of half of my mother'sgene cells. lime green fluorescent from the neighbor

drug store painting my fetal-positioned body. my roommateopened the hotel window to hear the strip's radio. let it bleed

        in stereo filling the streets. i am of this garden of thornsgrowing on my injection site. here in the neon dusk,

        i am a door the shape of a slow-draining disco.