Stick Figure Sunset

Ardency of the adrenals blazing on the copperbang roof of a caustic supermarket. Misread determination. Clang and jangle outside the parking lot, Potemkin shopping cart tumbling downstairs. A message from the gonads: go. Track the flight of the bumblebee past the projects and the shambles, haste bittersweeting waste. Tropes for honeylight strewn blinking over the trees. On the St. Charles streetcar a woman is buried deep like nothing else in New Orleans. My maw mau-maus me in the mausoleum made from the girlie magazines of my youth. That yielded to faster honeys, false horse latitudes. A woman represented by a skirt belled by a grating, great. You're with us, my bone china, you're one of the gang now.

Avast ye, Spongebob, but here's a pickle in primary hues: what else might be prehensile? Lute strings snap outside the oratory in synch with the supplicant's libido. Art of underwater. Sword snags on a rictus root and the filibusterers' final hurrah. We're falling backward on brittle golden hinds. Find a history for the cremaster muscle that gestures slyly at my gender, which even dandelions have. Seaplane lands on the Mississippi by a tanker spilling essence and peas. The ferry found a sealane between bruised nature and a Gemeinshaft. Alligator sausage at the cafe. A wilderness of me encircles my campfire nightly.

The Prelude whips to a stop, spitting gravel. My Huffy goes over a bump. This town is porous to my gesture, it seems to swim above the ground. Urgent burden of a nutsack mediated by heated mirrors. In the Navy the floor is a deck, the wall is a bulkhead, the bathroom is a head. Even the pirate navy yo-ho-hos its four to the floor. Wait till I play the race card tapdancing on cheap headstones. They say poverty isn't marriage, at least not in this grandstand. My dog is balding gracefully. My father hands out horny thumbs. If my features lack definition it's easier to bear your face. Carry me under your tongue and gargle your go-cup's light.

My first and only redhead, Zoe, a crown on island experience. Nimbus of the beachballed moon. If you can feel green fire you can feel yourself pitching across the lawn into your clean home plate. The inaudible body's clock puts out matches one by one. A dunce cap, felicity, a snifter in absentia. Rubbing alcohol, cool, it's a cruel summer. Your silence before a beatdown makes us call out your dead name. And if Tricky Dick should hear? My body's an admirable is. Clothes simulate an opening and an envelope's meant to be pushed. Sweat the imitation, Sally, plumb the simile's plum. Purple life before the decayed map of a simmering plain. The City of New Orleans was a train.