O'Neil will take you
to Elyria Avenue. Meanwhile,
red-eyed towers creep by. They're
up late. You swing your arms
with a mountain dew. Caffeine
twists your belly
into a balloon animal
so shrill. Pop, then Xanax. Caspians
sabotage to rust these knees
I step on, cracking
until a low yellow moon
casts webs down to smoking earth
that look like fences
around nameless bricks. Because
you wear no underwear, the black pants
feel seamless and delicious on you
when there's a breeze.
=====
***************************************************************************
Lewis LaCook
net artist, poet, freelance web developer/programmer
http://www.lewislacook.com/
Stamen Pistol: http://stamenpistol.blogspot.com/
Cell:440.258.9232(Please Text Me!)
Sidereality: http://www.sidereality.com/
tubulence artist studio: http://turbulence.org/studios/lacook/index.html
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The black pants
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Type: discussion