1. You went off and sadded the seesaw.
You stardust the sweepy skies. You sugarbeams.
You little bather of past lives. You monster truck
the nightmares. You whistle and goldfish swish
like dashboard hula girls.
A gila monster sent you a valentine.
An origami priest made you mine.
2. Went-away is no place for a hepcat such as you. The swing band dedicates every number
to the anonymous miracle in platform shoes. The taffeta skirts swish against our paperlegs.
We are lit up like Vegas. You’re the big cowboy sign and the pistol that shoots stars. I’m the
fat Elvis straining at my paper suit.
3. Ariel wears a tutu to work.
4. They wear suits
stiff and shiny
as all-day suckers.
If they fell on
into a thousand-thou
sand glassy bits.
5. A manifesto: The world should be so Ariel.
6. Send me to that planet that rings like a telephone, a church, the air after the words love or
over. Your eyes are cinnamon-rolls with meteorite sprinkles but everyone tells you that.
7. I’m trying to say: When you wandered in I began
sputtering nonsense. If you left, I’d never stop.