Loyalty set me going like a fat gold watermelon
all night the mortar-brick
fleas among flat pink roses.
A familiar screen mounts in my mind’s eye.
Crude, I stick to the bed, flooded deep
in my nicotine view,
hip oiled quick as a casino.
The wind stack whiskers and sways its dulces
and now you try, reappearing, a hallway of numbness.
My hands felt like water slowing to a slush—frozen.
The door wide open, strange
it had been braced by a rock or chunk
I’m no more your motor
than the clutch or the arrow’s approach,
A sponge, made specious, believable,
dust-thick birds around the roof’s final drop.
My body to melt out, willing water in
Dilute Reactive. Does anyone know
where she ends and something else begins?
Time is culpable,
coffee cooling on the table,
guilty of marathons.
We too will fall in with the crumble
of what had been thick concrete.
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