One Loop Short of a Shoelace

the new shirt with an unironed crease the slice of thorn against thumb ear against the bass speaker whispering at the shadows hoping something appears My business is are Hold the lunar for a tic my mad has never been ness no iota of the id people are strangled if your a strangler your faces are ugly did you get them on loan We of the ird Pass me by as you stare at the street one of us was lucky we didn't meet