I see Isadora and her scarf
and begin to think about the tire.
Or an ice cream made out of the stars,
though it would taste more like fire.

Was it fire or was it gas, when
a dance was the wildest?
Do not let them tame you, Budd. But you
have nothing to do with anything here,
so go **** your warning, Budd.
No one ever really heard you.
They only saw the erratic dance, spread
like wildfire, it burned their eyes but did not make ashes.
Even a candle could not be lit, the government just
did not want anything to be melted.

I see Christine and a box of silver!
My heart reeks of reptile or a motorcycle
or it is just an excitement of a .38 you know what and the vocabulary
isn't wide enough to rhyme sleepily but
let's see this together, Budd.
They put you under the label hero.

If I were them, I would not.

[Calm down, Sylvia. Yes, yes, your Dame Kindness
is so nice!]

I see Vincent and Ryan.

[Calm down, Sylvia. You were a deer, a peacock, a thorny tulip,
yellow thing with white skin.]

They are hungry, one was dead, another is still alive
with a smile ear to ear, disgusting as it does sound.

[ ]

I close my eyes and I see a sun and hear mountains,
river flows and swimming lungs,
the unconsciousness glows
like a midnight hunger.
But it was not the clock that ticked, it was all
in my head.

[Calm down, Sylvia. You are
now too pure already.]