Tomahawk

I am the harelip
Give me one more kiss
We'll have a mardi gras on deserted streets
Fingers and forceps
Raw meat and muzak
The bubbles in the wine keep the nerves dead
I was awake all through the surgery
The people dancing, laughing, all for me
You sewed me up but it will never heal
Will I forget then learn to smile some day?
Potbellied sick bed