The heart of everything Practices averted glances For my pleasure. I see how They stare. These white blood cells attack me: The Disease That Won’t Stop Smiling. I weave in and out of drug deals, The thread tying their whole empire together. The winners, the ones who look Ashamed, who turn down their eyes, Who have nothing but vitamins In their Coursing-River Urine. When I enter the bathroom, Trumpets flourishing,