you wanted the real thing ?
it’s there groaning just below your feet.

two tectonic plates kissin’ wet
n’ growling ***** promises into one-another’s ears at the back of the divebar

it’s
the gasline about to blow

the mayor’s closet full of
ivory murders

the city streets holding your titanium tax-dodge hostage

something on the horizon,

the
breadth of
a sailor’s bracelet, undone, in a place of stranding


a tall ship upon the night waves
with all the lights
snuffed out


a wafted scent of
senselessness

no pennies, nickels, or
dimes

please .


-y.h.h.