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.