Lambrini Socialist
for Shola Von Reinhold
The creed: I collected myself from the wreck
of decadence. Education? Oh, darling,
please. I already learned everything I need
to know, like at how to wear a silver signet
pinkie ring inset with an eBay lab-grown
rhinestone when I was perfectly born. For Earl
Grey cigarettes, I find that a cleaned vegan
camembert box makes the perfect ashtray, hides
the ash with its lid; I hide by covering
myself in peacock-teal silks. In the street, no
-body dares to make eye contact; my trick works
perfectly. Somebody else buys me Waitrose
sparkling rosé, which gushes with delicate
fizz. I insist on this, because foam, lotus,
& pizazz complete my perfect 3-point food
pyramid. I eat barroque, and am a slut
for the fabled yellow label. Theft’s a hobby
not a habit. Fuck me on a leopard skin
that never had to die. I am the Prince(ss)
of Panache, and rightful heir to the fabulous.
My wardrobe is made in charity shops, clothes
that come exclusively from the section marked
“cosmically androgynous”. Make way, sweetness,
because my 2-ton, 6-inch heel boots and tight
flamingo corset are on their way. My toast
is drowning in butter and a thick layer
of champagne marmalade; I drink it up, trans
-fixed by a self-portrait I did on the sky,
the ceiling adorned with a thousand shades of
me. Vain is a word for people who believe
that ’authentic’ means ’expensive’. But, gorgeous,
I’m your golden baby, made of 24
-karat pyrite. ’Extra’ doesn’t cover it,
I’m the real deal: a genuine specimen
fighting off my own extinction. Even if
you blink, you won’t miss me. Babes, I’m here to stay.
Baz likes poems and people. He’s been published in Full House, Spellbinder, and elsewhere. They have worked in collaboration with Lyra Poetry Festival, The Story Works, and the Oxford Poetry Library to help bring funky words to the people who need them most. He can usually be found on public transport or trying to avoid dairy products.
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