Take the escalator to colognes and vesper
sparrows. Or are those midget bachelors oiling
up her lady bug lady bug?
It’s the music.
Yesterday, a linotype parade below her threshold
ticker tape with an air of heated sports wear and
a carbo jingling “Strike up the thigh report.”
Lemon freezes on the mezzanine. Eye Level Curtsies in a
sprain of asphodel. Bronze geese descending in case you think
you’re real, Glory.
At Neiman’s rodent annex fluid checks for balance under wire
caustic for the shorter blonder cuticle. Tell me I’m a shoe in
No contact point, a dying button.
Terra Cotta Tentacle I’m yours a patio appurtenance
strung with real wild flagrant bedding stick-tights her
sun bath toy with me a little?
If it’s weather it’s the Captain in his cunning tower.
What’s a Starbucks holster for your stamen? “I’ll have the
pleasant under penalty of low fat” plays badly at the Thong
Sensation departing now on Track Ten generous for the
Outside Return Address Leathers stands a stalemate you
could swindle with a ceiling mirror playing hooty owls last
night was just another prefix isn’t my idea miles away in
a studded martingale.