DOWNTOWN MIKE'S HALITOSIS

It's not easy speak 
when conversing with him,
darkling gremlin toothless grin
but he's your friend so I carry on 
with Yoda in the corner of my mind
"judgmental you must be not"
and Comicon's collective excitement fading 
as the light will do in the west...

We speak easy with the circling
of the communal pipe
crystal peace in mists of glass orbs
oil burner fog horns 

piercingly in & between my ears
but its not so easy to ignore
the scent of death in his halitosis

We spoke of Superheroes 
their idiosyncratic identities
His secret celebrity crushes  
envying Green Lantern’s ring finger 
he speculates on Cyclop's orientation, 

"Y don’t you make me an X man, professor?"

Informatively encyclopedic volubility, 
Mike speaks queerly and toofless 
yet well versed on oral
said he rims pacific beach boys
(And I can smell the white lies
wafting from his mouth)
as I color at his studly fairy tales
and his idolatry of prepubescent innocence
the hyper kind of domination
as he verbally recalls the taste of how sweet

the sweet untouched were...

"The most gorgeous boys I’ve ever seen 
in porn or anyplace on the face of the planet
comes from and are probably are cumming now
in Europe... Mmm, European boys...
I want to use my life’s savings to go there
enter the war zone and come back wounded..."

I can't even imagine
Shrapnel jacked backside, points and protrusions
grandiloquent mouths and holes full of
enunciations...

"Fourteen is the age of consent there..." he is smiling
a caricature of a wolf f*g fang less
Such a pseudo wanna-be 
possibly already 
pedophile friend from the broken rainbow factory,
how I chuckle uncomfortably 
shake my head disbelievingly 

oh the humorous horror of it...

(I'm grinding my teeth, until I notice myself
doing so and get an image of him
with a gummy grin,
I preoccupy my thinking 
nodding as I half-heartedly half listen)