gun shot alligators
scrambling fall dissolve slo-mo into mosaic pieces scraped together of the fishwife’s sawdust floor
sipping red neon earth quaked insecurity shakes when’ll the next run’s steed come forth
till I happily forge a carthaginian peace with the muses’ universal militia fragmented ragtag band playing on some dead main street candy striped phonograph
gun shot alligators eating my holy corduroy’s
after blending juices in backdoor cabooses track far and wide
I still got sex not sure I’d bet on it if a den of
erotica showed up in the night
acceptance my lord- else be carved up left for dead
at the hands of a hatchet wielding prideful dormouse licking champagne from silver laces of some battered systematic boot
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