fork up, curl two noodles into a streamlined mess.
i'll esteem you for protocol in just one, two ways.
one day and you're somewhere new. and you spent
all your money on gold. money, money, same rate.
some people have sex these days, clothes on, and
silly how the bubbles come, you clubber, you bone picker.
i saw her swallow the mdma and said she rubbed the skin off her nose
as a joke. it didn't hurt just then.
it took all ten fingers to follow. i caught them touching
the road, the wicker baskets for shoes.
these digits are always ten steps ahead,
holding up a sign, just to the left up here.
one day and you could leave everyone behind.
one day and a smaller story was told.
for weeks i waited like plain old mysteries,
knowing no spare climate, no spare stories for sale.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment