I need you yesterday ripped up from rope burns in my darkling bedroom and finally able to get out of the sack with some semblance around four leafing already? I asked the twilit mid-june trees and the cicadas in their infinite whirring forgot to answer
all I know is that they spit electricity like the demons spit hair lice they laugh you in the face
a yearsfromnow dream— the kids playing fifty-two pick-up in the garage; don’t ask me what else you have up your sleeve, baby that’s enough card tricks for one night.