I dip into traffic
doing 50 mph or serious with a chuckle. looking at daisy dukes longer legs
short tied off tops. life is adorable, if and only if, such sights in a deeper
soul. we sail further, crossing Sepulveda, headed to a little space in an
ancient wall. too many beliefs too much collaboration at heights for sinners. I need background billboards or cavalier
music, at degrees in raw ass liquor. kidneys or liver or dehydrated in Nevada—a
bit mad about it, a bit ready in it, where Rose chose to become a rival. to admit rain, in a Sunday game, many
select a sword to me. like robbers
select banks. like thieves select heists. a bit much when it catches up. I was shaving or washing or distressing.
Love came by laughing. she felt pain at the door. it washes at times. a million
at a march a zillion at deaths so mad it feels normal. they call us liars they get away with
murder our understanding means so little—they demand respect. a chuckle into a
laugh dipping back to traffic, reminiscing over years of graffiti. a thief par excellence a scoundrel
with rules a thug with morals. sweet oxymoron—the way we make selections, like
cheating but adoring one’s husband.
they say it’s different. I beg to differ. it hurts it hurts! I get mad about the way she loves me. I get
even in my future mind. I crack a joke and she doesn’t catch it—she just
agrees. no greater unevenness than
sensing by fact a woman one adores like a whore for another. I disappear!
