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A Sliver of a Hotel in a Bandleader's Mouth in Parenthesis

Cut the lights!


slice through all the physics and kill the intruder's imprudence

and join me here


join me here.


on my last legs, go figure

stagger and urge the waiver

these were the words of ramblers and fry-cooks

beach bums and cigarette smokers

who wore in last issues of galore

dog collars and diamond embedded chokers

weeping foam where they stepped and where they did not


all I wanted was for my lover to carry me down

so I fell in love with a bucket

it’s cruel and used with a broken handle and holes from buckshot.

and used twice as a giant’s thimble.


ramble


hello good Georgia, I heard your throat is clogged -- tough luck

I got a bottle of good port and a bottle of vodka filled with water

and that’s to throw off the coppers

a bag of grass stains on the front porch

with freedom of the last sort.


if you catch me going through life like I was a horse and it was hay

stand back and let me at it

let me gnaw and chew

and spit and swallow

its probably a mistake that I can even move my jaw at all

so don’t alert any of the priests who are working on painting the stable.


I’ve seen their exorcism plan and the leeches and the electrodes they have at their disposal.


established


silently drank the milk set out by your offer

with a sleeve across my lips

I ripped the evidence and kindly left

when your back was turned looking at the urn

of your late and terrible husband


modesty hides my intentions

and shame tames my affection

but your regal voice pains my ever intuition


deeper down in the wallows where we follow

where we dance and feel a little less hollow I can hear you


Cut the lights!

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