forgive me — i have a meanness — a classic whisky-swilling gnarl

            like a cardboard cutout of bette davis at a bar

once i sat at such a bar — in boston — and picked a fight

with my cardboard cutout

            but perfectly respectable boyfriend at the time

who i would not call my boyfriend — because

            they do not grant permission

                        to the mean among us            for love and the affiliate benefits

            the good faith — the valour — and the immunity from

that great speed

            with which            the mean

                        are disposed of —
o god — the dreadful spectre of postmodern metastyles — pastiche and self-loathing —

            is thick in the room of my meanness — nothing is safe —

to be mean is to pick on the weaker man —

            his human body — like carrion

                        on the open planes — like a dot

                                    on a disc of snow
the inverse of meanness

            is pettiness — pettiness like

                        the late middle english bastardisation of the french

                                    meaning something made small —

            like a bastard, or a petticoat —

                        the mercenary rustling

                                    beneath a skirt —
to be petty is to be mean without power —

            to pinch a scullery maid for a bruise —

to ignore the missives            of a well-meaning man

            in favour             of the pleasures     of a bar  —

                     of the deep  berry red            of a drink
meanness, at its full extension            is cruelty —

meanness is to cruelty            a stick-up            to a shooting —

            cruelty is meanness to the power of whisky — to the power of femme — the shrew

being the only sympathetic character in western canon —
it is absolutely no fun to go mean without power

            the mean without power are mad —

they have arguments with themselves

alone with their lunches —

            they give awkward and uncomfortable

                        keynote addresses —
the power of the mean            is this —

to consign noble motives to others —

            who — in your wake — have no choice

            but to turn up their collars to the wind —

to walk out the door

            better men — the power

            to compel            so many

            to go outside        for some time —
            taylor, everybody made me cold            but nobody ever gave me money for it

                        obviously taylor — having read simone weil —

you know that we direct spite            primarily at our fellows —

            so cruelty is a function of oppression            but pettiness

                        is the secret service

                                    of our collective undoing —

                        ensuring social cohesion

            in a post-fordist            and kindergarten sense —

                        like putting babies

in a tar pit — the rustle of a thousand skirts —

            a sly smile — a dry laugh —

a dopamine shot on the other side of a monitor — like a moth

            squashed on a windshield of a kia —
            but meanness, taylor

                        is an act of great — and thankless — generosity —

            i won’t call it revolutionary but —

without it — you could not live in a big city —

            performing high production value      acts of menace —
to receive meanness            is a promise by projection —

            by the perverse logic of the universe of blondes —

that one day             you will be so big

            nobody can hit you
the mean among us remain            in medium sized cities

            in undemanding bars — performing our low budget

                        pop country duties

                                    to a small, but committed audience

                                                of one or two