4x10

The Killing Field” Ariana nodded, tremolo fingers, and they ran across the killing field, watching the steel-toed kite ascend— a fleeting instant of triumph in the vacuum. Josh scoffed as it dipped, both caught in the pull of the abyss, falling but not landing. They took turns gliding it, Bald headed eagles filling the air, until it sank into the seabeds, the depth charge igniting underground. “Let’s see who can jump the highest,” Ariana said, voice light but steady, aiming to beat his rebound. Josh clapped, mocking her. “Ready to launch?” he asked, handing her the Molotov cocktail. Fingerprints” 1960s television stars all dead now, Long buried in a graveyard, no one reads the epitaphs, Little-viewed Wikipedia articles. Libido refracted through silicate, Its frequency dissolving as the pan and scan image narrows On the light-emitting diode screen. Football stadium, Australia, in boxers, Horny as serpentine masturbation, Oxidized by turbulent breath, sonorous decay. Driftwood basements disintegrate like rotten teeth, lignite seams set fires. Time waves refract backwards, cats in boxes, Dilapidated chartreuse molecular detritus, Polychromatic tide amplifies, Obliterating fragile imprints of youth. “Jenny Lynn Coleman” Bubbles confabulated, Aquamarine rosary beads, Steel-blue beams. Americana scarecrow, Cherry-red combine. Lost Highway, A road to the car dealership, Back on the interstate. Campanile, Brookings. Brick courthouse, marriage license. Curvy fairytales, Gluten-free supper, Phillips Diner. Sioux Falls railroads, Sewage floating in the river, All in view— On the Cliff Avenue hill, Of the obsolete penitentiary. “The Virgin” The preacher wrote his sermons in lead, Burnt metal mingled with ink, Fingers stained, calloused saints, Words twisted into weightless dumbbells. The glam Virgin undressed in the four-poster bed, White sheets tangled beef and bread, Wispy voice seized toxic air. The supercharged captain, warts, grease and leather, Jackboots squeaked, Handed her a sanitary napkin, Crinkling like a dead junkie in the hallway carpet. The intoxicated Calvary charged into the sallow saloon, Hooves pounding sagebrush rumps, Go-go girls swirled 1980s LA ozone, Strobe lights paused, sharp hairspray sweat. Cowboys eyeliner smudged, 10-gallon hats like sagging clouds, Sounds of tobacco, whiskey, gambling, bells rang, Not for exorcism, but for decoration, Chimes swayed clanging hungry metal mouths, Their tone burning like a waltz’s scent “Dog Spank Memory” Smoke wisps are restless ballerinas City streets are a worn velvet cloak Neon lights are starving fireflies Alleyways are cracked mirrors reflecting shadows Graffiti is a rebellious lover's whispers Buildings are giants playing musical chairs Cars are metallic horses galloping to nowhere “Reprise part 3” The hoe and rake were used to tend the moon mound track house, while the egg plant slum provided sustenance for the residents. The dog car drool was used to water the imagination garden, which was filled with a variety of plants such as theology, styrofoam elucidation, and tennis doctors. In order to test the effects of gunpowder zoom and hop hook on the Asian rock ivory, the tall tree tail generation was observed in the Xenon pompadour polar cap. And of course, the students at the Etymology University also enjoyed a game of “Quantum Quartz Quizzes” and Wee golf during their breaks. Streetlights are candles on a forgotten altar Storm drains are secret tunnels to the underworld The wind is a wanderer searching for a forgotten melody Shadows are dark librarians shelving forgotten dreams