Seesaw dreams,
crocodile streams,
high beams to
low blows,
whipped cream and
curled toes.
No
nope
no, I
rescind my
dissent but will
present myself
to the door
once more.
Face meets
floor,
bobcats snore,
man beats
lore.
Coffee poured
into the seats
of a chewed up
Delorean, beauty
beats itself
brutally into the palms
of my hands.
See-through plans,
call the boys
to the stands,
bludgeoning the
fruit fly to
death with a
frying pan.
Flying garbage
cans, eat
your heart
out, eat
your heat out
gladly and
with gusto.
I must know
I must know
which way
the stars blow
through atmospheric
throws of ball
to bat,
universal yarn
to cosmic cats.