bowling-pin Tom
tastes like
sour milk and
monthly payments
I run around his kitchen
dressed in lethal
butter knife

my railroad cat
with eyes that
play-pretend the almost
catch me´s
finds meaning in my
indulgent
nursery rhymes

Trailer park escapism
joy in school-bus
traffic rides
otherwise inconsequent
ring dove hands
that scrape
my sea-salt thighs