Mother!
Is there a habit
That clothes
Your inner beauty?

I assemble myself
Each, a part
chasing its inclination
amidst the traffic of my mind
Neither right nor left
is wrong:
Off the median's comfort
I'll keep my pace
crossing. Crossing
this androgynous street

Atop the mushroom
Clouds. Who knows from where
another?

Green means
many things
"Picture this"
I get around in my EV
The trees neatly packaged
The streams and the grass
and the cows' milk
and the eggs of the poultry
in abundance
"You're living in
the wrong city my friend!"

My patience is a virtue
Still hands
Straight shots
Full bodied
Another on ice
Keep walking my friends

Johnnie Walker

The depth of a quarry
The mass of the ore
The heat in the furness
The diameter of the bore
The skill of a marksman
For sure. For sure.

In my kitchen
your place
is at the table