Thomas Fink
Soda Melodies
into leather. Outdoorsy smoke.
Steeped beaches can embrace,
Drenched. Mother
rakishly savoring re-
novated waterfalls. Deathly
alive. Sold affection—
that well. Depths merge.
A brilliantined vampire’s
wireless pastiche might break
me with impressions
of hecklers dying berserk.
Long gambled
Christmas
hawks a
smoochy
truce of the
chic and the chucked
and the chuckling.
Be his people. Ad-
venture tube: home
cruise, incomparably
discount- fortified. At a
concert some die for
delight, promoting
excessive
cookies to
our law.
