7.19.2010

Through a lens that's smeared with Thursdays.

Plumber snot is laced
with copper dust and solder paste.
Her body is so hot
that it leaves marks on my skin.

People smell burnt toast
before succumbing to a stroke.
The seagulls fled the fireworks
shot from barges on the Hudson.

My acquittal wasn't clear
so I wore her on my beard.
The red lights will confirm it:
I'm in fact at home in hell.

Raise your head and fill your chest
as you jettison the best.
I've drank with him a dozen times
but he don't know my name.

Rejected from the hive
drones search for food
until they die.
You say that I've had all of you
but now I want the rest.

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