rainfall tangoes on my tongue
it tastes like metal tonight my
bullet teeth could say anything

two purple books sit tails between
their legs on my coffee table ran
-som notes to my temporal cortex

low speakerbuzz like a 1979 sci-fi film
i cast my mind like fishhooks;thewires
a two-stop tramline everything will be

ok?

some guy. some man to find
his, as the old veteran put it
, "special lady" or something.
we're made of the same old
stuff, you & i. the very cotton
that binds us to our shoes and
our shoes to pavement and
the pavement to the sky. in
-verse the slant on what it
means to know how someone
looks after waking up in the
morning. how you feel when
you realise you've been sleep
-ing on a bed of fries and
burger lettuce. when you
accidentally box their nose
blue. you, some cosmic com
panion you turned out to be.

as the drumline spiels his deal,
his baseless accusations ring
the bell behind your eyes! sing!
mimic his air! your cacophonous snare
shouts like an astronaut on a space-walk

promise! never let the cold take hold
of your reptile brain; you're half unsaid!
why must you let the louder half spread
his legs in ecstasy? you deal in chastity!
who are you? some sci-fi *****?

you can't be saved from your retroflex grave,
so dare to live where no rhyme scheme toes
the line of cosmically acceptable prose
see? nothing matters!  - this jawless chatter
asks "who are you? some cerebral *****?"

"an ugly *****!!!" you might retort
but self-awareness does not absolve
the sins of online vanity; dissolve
me, untrue - drown in pixels green and blue
or wake up
                     in the nothingness
                                                     ­  of the space-walk