deputy, deputy, throw me the film
poems are transient, angled at him
finding the finite is fine for a feature
eye's darting nervous, looking for the
stark creatures

of dusk, a mere husk of the body
embalmed, never believed in the
shoddy ******, Kush and Corinthians,
breathing air from a ****, we
continued the laugh-track for sadness
and song

(was less lonely
than screaming
your name)