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Vernon Frazer – Slanging Leather Pursed

Vernon Frazer
Slanging Leather Pursed

chalks the walk,
a barefoot pouch, the cheeky tans
“bitchin’” catwalk vocables


                                    the talk of the town
                                    manstanding clowns


              hawking

                                        down

                                                                neanderthal


gravities glad-handing
hi-five odes to stereo cavities,
analog to digital catwalks


            Their hot torpedoes
            turn avocado, burning


pork loins tongue their dead vibrato


                                    not with standing
                                    her slitted cabaret

Salons to the right of them,
saloons to the left of them


                                    talking shit
                                    taking heat


Idiomatic switchboards thunder
lightning dreams of displaced dew


Swinging lean

              on Mean Street USA

                            her buns glow south, her

                                        tongue talks a gat’s bad walk


Gunning eyes shoot
blanks as stares, man to man
to men tumescent


                                        her stalking

                                                    pterodactyls

                                                                    bird the word

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