Thursday, March 19, 2009

Just Getting Along

I'm not sure what I fed you
but I think it rotted in your mouth
before you could swallow it.
There was some mistake we made
holding the pistol up to the teller
made us squirm in our gel.
The pontoon was docked and the feast
was wrapped in cellophane. It all
means so much once it's gone by
the tracery and the junction
little puppet light show mind fuck
in the middle of the room in the night
the blinds make shadows like an arm
across my chest a prism of gist
just getting along just getting along
the end cannot go any further.


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