Onions and Attitudes Cafe

Monstrosity, say the fans,

Lies in the beholder’s eye.

That’s how monsters multiply,

There being so many eyes—

The man who murdered two teens

Begs, I am not a monster,

Prior to his sentencing,

While lonely, outsider teens

Identify with monsters.

Maybe we can constrict this,

Being language, your monster—

Monsters are hybridity,

And thus a threat to order,

Sure, but the valence depends

On which part of the creature

Threatens humanity most

By being both alien

And only old memories—

Body, personality,

Or something out of the mind.

All monsters are transgressive,

But some transgressions you like,

Or admire, or maybe pity,

While others you truly loathe.

Down at the dreaming cafe

Where the joke sign promising

Sandwiches, &tc.,

Served with Gossip,

Opinions, and Attitudes

Has lost several letters

From weathering since it closed,

Monstrosity lurks under

One of the outside tables,

Trying to decide which kind

Of monstrosity words are,

Neither human, beast, nor mind,

But everything human beasts

Have made of mind, the signage

Incised and fading on clay.