Sweet Tomatoes and Red Mary Janes

Ripe tomatoes in the supermarket The red tip of my own nose. Their lime green imagination Marauded by Edgar Allen Poe. Her silver dollar face raises hellfire Says the stringy girl who believes in ghosts. Goodnight to the lucky cat Who kisses my cheek with his prose. Her calico hat sticks to dewy grass While the hooves of the lumpy deer carcass doze. The weight of dreams lifted off my shoulders By the kiss of conciousness on my nose.