post cherry: the squirrel that jack found

In an earlier post I talked about writing a poem about a dead squirrel. I’ve never done this before & I don’t know if I’ll get any response but this is the first finished draft & I’d love some feedback:

 

The Squirrel That Jack Found

I call my boy say wuts good lets chill
We like to meet in the dark spot @ Hendrix 
park. I like to enter and stand still. 

I sense not see, it’s patience, concentration. 
But this time he says sorry b I have to take my squirrel 
for a drag. You don’t got a squirrel!

but I found one on the sidewalk says he. 
He likes to drag says he. All the dogs
back-capsize their boners twist out like lipsticks 

smiling & red-shiny in rowsnrows when they sniff 
his stiff.  Jack says listen b I’ll call 
u when I can. He, wolfgrin. He, other linely 

tying bakery string round the dead 
thing’s neck. I freeze, probe static to feel his jerks. 
Exclamation! I mutter into the phone & head 

parkward + scissors. Funny seeing u here says Malice
Jack. But help says I, crixing metallic 
cutters at his nose. The bright glees him, concedes me 

a nod. Jack licking his lips birds me the plan 
with his hands to the wrist & we for hours snip & laugh
skip & leave a trail of quivering red 

slugs in a ring around the lake. Jack bites 
my neck, says he feels like a man. A shiver like what 
I do just doesn’t make beautiful things.

 

And, for good measure, a random video I find pleasurable:

 

added ps: this is probably old news, but Tao Lin says here that “that hipsters are more his target audience than ‘people in therapy,’ however maybe Brit would enjoy his latest release anyway, titled Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy.” i lolzed my pants.