on the street where this  summer's hippest martyrs rot away
the sidewalks question their sexualities as the sun burns them into
flat .  s l i c e s .   on phonescreens   
//words are my pocketknife in your hand-like a fool trying too hard at someone else's party.
[] as you slide across the polyurethane
holding brand-new hostages at your waist_ trimming them down to swimsuit-season size
                       and style.  
   the air quakes though the [youth like bent corners, ruining photos in ] old magazines .
shivering at the lakeside in full attire
i tank
,having enough of it.


we are seizing_
a
day
    other than this
//