If Austin Powers were god
If Austin Powers were god
when you died you would walk through
a pearl necklace and the clouds would be
lined with chest hair and bad teeth
they would jangle with our rumpy-pumpy
and every time a miracle happened
god would rain down penis enlargers
while the wind cries “yeah baby yeah”
If Austin Powers were god
then Dr Evil would be the devil
and Fat Bastard would be a sexually aggressive
scottish alternate to the devil
holding blood sacrifices and settling posthumous grudges
around a tartan pentagram
doling out indifferent violence as rulings
dressing the defendants in a fat-suit then setting them alight
snort-laughing while bagpipes drown out their screams
& they drip down like snowflakes onto the
bad neighbourhoods of hell
If Austin Powers were god I would
know what Mike Myers is up to these days
without having to google him first
Making your own meaning is a shag-pile exhaustion
speeding in on a Union Jack Beetle from the 60s to the 90s
to whatever eras past the 90s are called
(maybe the Naughties, the Very Naughties)
a dull splitting of hairs between Liz Hurley and a femmebot Liz Hurley
Heather Graham and Beyoncé
I am so bored I could cry
I am so bored I could shag myself all the way
to the top and back down to the bottom
to pass this garish extended remix of an afternoon
I don't believe in god regardless
but if Austin Powers were some divine being
directing the universe in a purposeful or uncaring or Lovecraftian manner
perhaps the world would be more full of love or immature sketches
to do with shit or crude nudity or Russian models called Ivana Humpalot
maybe one bajillion dollars would mean something
maybe one billion dollars would mean something
to billionaires like “give me away!”
Ivana do something with my life
besides waiting for all its events
good and bad and neutrally charged
to happen to me
with the added benefit
of my never actually having to do anything
Ivana be a success
write my book without ever lifting a finger
and then ask my fans to recount
what it was all about
In my dreams these fans shag me dead
and then as posthumous pillow talk,
whisper:
“your life’s work was shagadelic, baby
yeah!!!!”
About the author
Eloise Grills is an award-winning essayist, comics artist and poet. Her comics chapbook, Sexy Female Murderesses is out now through Glom Press, and she has books forthcoming with Subbed In and Brow Books. She tweets and grams as @grillzoid
