Saturday, February 14, 2009

hydraulic hiccups

Bushman breast slammed like breakfast in the face

of a bleeding heart case who never got the tip
from this strawberry-tights nurse with bedeviled toes,
just goes to show, coronary bypass was the other fork in the road.

Falling off a cliff right after cranking the nitrous,
burning up in flames, a giant cheeto ball down the gorge.
Mastication of a thousand nerds at a weekend Assembly marathon,
then just a charred, bent over skull, tooting forever on the horn.

Decades upon flies till the insects just got too big and went away,
horn run outta juice but still pressed upon it anyway.
In a dead desert dream she sways in from all dry horizons
a great water urn on her head and hips like an island.

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