whip out the sophistry module
it's all I got in my satchel besides
your old flask, which lately
has stopped murmuring to me

yeah, baby. you're killing them
whirling through the room like a tardy
ballon, low and tired. I can't
tell you what I want to say

but I'll buy you the words. five, say.
line 'em up. you flay them too much
I know, it's what makes the drinks
go down so clear. fear and sex played

out on a screen is what makes
this country go.
don't get petulant about it.
now smarten up

hangover exegesis;
pound out the flame
as it was meant
to be written

termite brains chittering
need is a bannister
maybe it's enough

*

silently comparing
hangovers at the water
cooler. yeh buddy

I see you

desolate champ
furniture
face

four levels, dollhouse head.
images in the brainpan. well
is down, well is way down,
you can make it

on Tuesday

a vase half full of mnemonics
a wraith reading his intensity
in the breakdown lane, the big
trucks bombing past

Maggie, bring me an egg plate
and my viewfinder and get that
scrawny dog out there a steak
on my tab