Gilgamesh enters the Zellers Mall

Gilgamesh enters the zeller’s mall

Alliterative, alacritive
Gilgamesh enters the zeller’s mall
Shaggy Enki follows in behind
Proud at shopping chariot helm
All the cashgirls eyes are sated
As they milk the teats of commerce
Stretch their painted scarlet lips
Sticky with Dumuzi’s blood
The straw god
And the cow priestesses
Mulching Sumer’s sacrifice
The triumph of bovine consumerism
Grasping their paddles
The milkmaids begin their song
Their churning song
Enflaming Gilgamesh
In the belly of Inanna
The manmilk is churned
Into what golden butter
Man, keep the paddle straight
Man, see the heat is gradual
See the golden globes appear
In the heat of the crucible
In the heart of consummation
In the garden at midday
Make yellow the milk my bridegroom
Gilgamesh blushes
Turns his sunface from the cashgirls
Astride dark Enki’s chariot
He braves the aisles of merchandise
Eternal, diurnal
Through forests of garish underwear
Peeled empty playsuits
Mocking as the milkmaids’ laughter
Pursue him through soft furnishings
To the mall concourse
Oblivious to the throng of pilgrims
Eyed by the temple rent-a-cops
Along the royal precinct
And into Books-R-Us
Enki curses and spits
On a life-sized stand-up Mailer
Retroglamour and confinement
Pierce his desert soul
Like the vulture’s shadow
Gilgamesh leaps from his chariot
Under the sign of the goddess
Sitting on her very couch
Sits Lilith in her glory
Signing copies of Ishtar’s Girdle
A wow with the critics
See the goddess naked
Her inner secrets exposed
Lilith bares little pointed teeth
In a carnivorous grin
Gilgamesh casts a spear at her
Despite the erection
But the rent-a-cops have followed
And restrain him
Dress him in purple robes
Force him to lie upon the couch
He pleads for his long preserved virginity
But the damned erection betrays him
And she has him
Look around she says afterwards
As he weeps for what he has lost
How could we profane this place
This fable of a failed race
Culture, honour, dignity, love
Everything’s for sale
With low budget financing
The human heart is tamed
And passion is a perfume
Yelling that we need no gods
We cry our pain in the wilderness
Get thee hence Gilgamesh
Far from the haunts of man
For I have seen the future
And find it narcissistic and provincial
With no call for heroes
So take your hairy little friend
And fuck off.