all morning they came, amateurs with broken arms and smooth skin. mostly quiet.
still waking. limbs chewing gum. big lips on a small orifice wondering how
many mouths led to that one.

when you get off the hobby horses, when you drive off the wildebeests, it’ll just be you in
your bed. afraid, you’ll say "I know". a feigned collapse when the loss of rigidity is
always waiting.

what have you ever told me. what have you ever said to me heading home. serval cat,
I like your ears. midnight, I like your shower. egypt, open your window issue.
dustbowl, you’re drunk. muffin, let’s kiss.

the key requirement of Title V, Prediction IV: we read it in a book when we were
seventeen. cross-sectioned. smile of a lamb.

the alter. the long toe. the lemonade we drank on the roof.

the main requirement comes to collect the late afternoon sweat, making a list of everyone
you want so you can tell them. some drama without the antihistamine.