a quantum of soul and cherry ***** in the backseat of a ford-
we were going to eighty-six the world

the sinews of our unattainable hands
that yanked themselves free
and went to ruining our best Bellamy salutes
and went to forming ladders and tarmacs in the vapor of the night
and went to everything

it's wasn't the shaking or the vim of the stockyards on the days they hung up ornaments
it wasn't those who followed a cheekier Moira and gawked at Rita of Cascia as she passed by

it was the way escape felt with you as it's stern
it's the way escape felt with you full of sanguinity

the kind that your mother gave you in the belly of California
the kind that I ripped away for ***** and giggles