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hurricanes can’t survive where northern boys rule,
it is just a national geographic magazine truth,
everybody knows the slow frenetic taking is a compromise,
my tongue parachutes inside the dome and the soft down
comforter is on the floor in the hotel room with a view of
fifth avenue and central park and the occasional glance outside,
a landing zone for the  V-day parapoets

room service delivers in god’s love we trust.
i teach you my mastery and you laugh
texas blonde shotgun size

is that the best you got
and I laugh
cause we don’t got hurricanes in manhattan
unless they are man made
and the shower handle won’t turn us off

in what time zone is it am4:29
and you feed me verses like long legged spaghetti lines,
and i say too fast too fast and you say too bad too bad
northern boy
that how texas blondes shotgun size write poems

4:29am