To be absolved of anonymous sin, invisible filth,
would you pay a processing fee? Five hundred dollar.
For free though you could melt into the seamless weave
turn sideways and you’ll become three-D
it’s simple, love- delirious weeks lack endings,
this act’s transparent (and hungry), daintily demure.
I realize I’m in possession of a highly feminizing
rapport- a strongly energized retort- a mouthful
of borrowed theories, and a thousand repetitive queries
Vaulted upon the hopeless masses
of snakeless (read: native) Saint Patricks
All green, if you know what I mean-
Danced before on that wooden floor
that’s what friends are for.
It’s a dance done before on this particular floor
and besides, Mom says I got the right
pretty little wiggle in them hips
I realize I’m teasing it out with a cloying meow
let their seeds spill on the ground, for now
Force a rhyme to kill the time: update?
No update. Grind your heel in the gravel,
wipe the crease from your brow, & fast forward
to eight years from now: pick up that string,
next comes the can- I know you want to hang out
with my cat again.
yeah, she just went there!