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So the air is clear so I can't shake this swine
a smallness to features, featuring, amid others,
a dainty explanation. Think about delicate ribs
moving slowly like a smudged rocket on VHS tape
blinking or a plan to succeed in a friendly game.
People are choking on each other everywhere.

I love your game: its fabulous prices, the dark wax
on the end of the tip, the dazzling smell of watches,
the banging of cans against the sidewalk, and those pearly
episodes where a hand can reach in and quell the stampede.
We live in NYC, we throb lightly, we eat standing up.
There is provocation in simply riding a bike.

The animals, they know when to walk on leashes,
or use a rope on a chimney to hold up some
battered silver scaffolding. Another table for books.
Shaving legs and belly with ironing wand
and ice cream - you would like that sort
of ice cream now that it is warm weather time.

He sleeps, which means the medicine has
taken affect. Think about your spastic genesis,
think of print magazines, the lowdown, like a spirited
camper with white fluff and epilepsy. These people
seem to know medicine or know neighbors
on the medicine or on the bed. Cops at the door.

I brush my back, she knocks a calendar,
shows specific dates, animals run in tight circles,
lime green, some other people with ideas all
their own. Oh how do you do it poetic type
seeking the stairs or going down them, the meaning
again where the small parts are hidden, so makes a house.

Finally after everything, we've earned it: our special
day I'm right where you are ruthlessly clawing my way
through nothing so much as a smooth transition
exit wounds abounding a miracle I flutter on
this flush brown rug and still I live in the city.
I'm huge, I'm demanding, I make proclamations.