Belt-driven attic fan, curious Hearing punctual freight trains in the heavens already willing it to rub off Hard at work, building waiting excepting the chamber pot, inhaling cracking leather on the relic
Schwinn over Main’s embossed crossing past absentee-doted bushes over the driveway’s entry jagged canyon two creaking screendoors ...(leaves, leaked) pat the mouldsteps to the twineswing by the naked bulb’s pullchain with the best view of the forgotten sandbox where one could excavate clump’d plastic Shermans and creased Army men under the baby-powdered bathroom’s drain and remember The Bomb and smell death
It’s not good for it Always, Susan Suzanne, at least? I tried to cycle a gritty cap gun but cowboys bore me
It’s just candid cadence so his pacemaker’s ok, right? How tiring Tear a whole day from Kiwanis’ year Examining up and down, an auger under load ...than Ghandi, superior lucidity Asked politely to soften on the organ (pot-luckers absentmindedly exchange recipes and are es vee peas)
Granola flakes on colored paper but Slim was always with me from Peoria, thru-front flaring nibbling on a ham sandwich with a splintry broom entombed by the fireplace under die-casts and lanyards and taboos
Bite me, Cold I’ll stop at the y-lot No isn’t always no
Blacksheep from the secret tower rooms since forgotten stage wiring is infinitely more enchanting than distant cousins’ water balloons
Mesh-umbrella’d cheap labor born around her open switches and chandelier moods
I leave my body for the knobbly ceiling note the Lutheran taffy wrapper in my pocket