Nicolas Teixeira: Serving Delusions

Serving Delusions

after Rita Coolidge & Kris Kristofferson on The Muppet Show

he eats without me.
I can’t stop thinking about it,
& I’m a glutton for punishment.

whole grain oats.

I gather my city
was not made
to hunt for monogamy.

he never cared if I left.
it gave him more time
for all his internal doings.

vegetable minerals.

the forlorn destitute I tried
so perfectly hard to ignore
the ones that were not at my speed—
the ones pleading for place.
the ones begging for change.
the ones waving their red flags.

they were the ones who knew
him much more intimately than I.
I must admit, I didn’t even know
which direction to take sometimes.
I didn’t know all his intricate parts.
I gave up trying to discover all his

secrets which could have helped me
make it past my mind walking all over
him as his mind moved on without one

thought of me— but no problem— no
hurry. I’ve traveled deep into random
corners out of reach only to find that

he was all out
of the satiating sustenance
I was craving extreme need for.

fruits of the fruit.

I really thought our neon hearts
had made a psychic connection—
not just spontaneous light flurries
of a show or seven with cheers/
jeers & a few laugh line makeovers
for different season’s alimentary value

going
down
counting floors.

thawed raw protein.

graffiti percentages were written onto
his walls. his hustle was always a hassle—
one too many crowd clusters hogging
pathways. impediments on numb leashes
to leases to know how to move one’s form
away from congested taillight eyes staring

at me dead in the face. I heard his alarm
sirens & shots & shouts & his screeching
growl from below. but I did not listen.
I should have trusted my smarts. I knew
it wasn’t going to last to be the full-woo-
moon taste I wanted between us even be-

fore I ever
opened
my big mouth.

rich crème de la curd.

pudding proof key. no. but I have put in
my time. put on a face for people I did
not want to talk with & dealt with his mood
swings, standing by, waiting, in non smoking
areas, ever so patiently, for the trains in his
bowels to move. & what was all my loyal

& faithful
groveling
appetite for?

I forgot
I got lucky.
I thought I was special.

(flavor) supplement.

I would go settle down with another, but
it would just be the same. no. I will stay
living w/ regret, alone, jealous, bitter, &
dead tired inside my box watching what
he’s up to behind scratched sneeze guard
screens w/a superstar TV brand frozen

dinner & all its select separate entities,
objectified & compartmentalized, while
the long cafeteria line of food groupies,
w/loose grip on reality, know every song
written about him, inspired by him, & for
him as the absolute, & fiery OPEN light,

as sharp as polished silverware,
makes queues around blocks
reaching for the top

of walls
w/ corners
for cherry
fructose
oils & fats
downing
love lining
triangle
XL pizza
slices w/extra skin
blood
& the bone.

Nicolas Teixeira (@muppoet) is another queer living in New York City, where he obtained an MFA and now teaches and bartends.