Dice the dead mans diligence like a Dillinger or Challenger,

He gained a Dodge Wrangler like a sad handler of emotions;

Perhaps all of this is more potent than potions or consumer hand lotions plus alcoholic haphazard;

Yet I consider the price of anything to be lice on everything,

Like a fat woman’s sullen song,

The sounds still ring in the lingering enclave of my eardrums,

Which breath waves like air into my lungs.

It’s sundown,

And therefore, I’ll see you soon;

Yes, I’ll see you soon, moon.

So very soon.