Oh, the quasi-related grace
Of saliva on the toes;
The reds, the blues, the greens
Of pregnancy.

Castration?!

We melt like mosquitoes
Across the heated causeway
In June;

Pepto-Bismarck?
I hate shocking pink.

Fools make
monkeys smart
When you spell it out
there's only two zeros
found between the ends

flesh concious since
my mom caught me and my cousin Anne naked in that old beat up rusty hulk of a truck right next to the outhouse
playing show me yours
at five years old and scolded us like satan's spawn
several psyches through my tale
I decided to live with it
got naked one day
ran through the ******* middle of town
plucking flowers from gardens and graves
had several pinned in my hair by
the time the constables caught me trying to
steal a shrubbery from the
garden center at Wal-Mart

When yer high on a streak
And no doubt its a freak
Aint nothin can beat yah
Not luck bad ner good
Dont doubt its a bet
A streakers regret
Tho yah aint beaten yet
The times surely set
Not by fate or yer odds
Ner the whim of the gods
But by an incredible drive
To keep going
Then die.