sitting
in legacy, father a roller, mother a stoner.
both
as sameness, no one cares, flooring an Impala.
a
wild machine, a dictum in motion, damn near an apostate.
call
it home, California or nothing!
rolling
faster, stuttering at beauty, could to be in winds.
a
larger bottle, an older exhaustion, mental madness, mental sadness.
at
a fever at times, living for music, hanging low on a spin.
never
met someone, nothing like math, such algorithms.
to
outwit me, to outthink me, to pass by laughing, so flirtatious.
such
raw ass pain, could to ask forgiveness, it just rolls deeper.
many
at it, many scudding, many more flitting.
more
aches in sins—something marvelous, to see what we’ve become.
