INSTEAD OF TAKING A SHOWER
I have two moods: cruel or nervous.
And a vial of infectious ha-ha-ha.
They printed all the riddles without
reward money. Affection last seen
clamped or camp. I'm a gully in the
steam of your sidewalk accordion.
If that's hard to follow, I'm right
behind you. Time's got a top-notch
immune system. Just now, I grew my
beard toward a show of support.
Sure, you have your own life's blue
deed, but I have a satellite's habit.
Look! All those ideas wanted tailors.
Which means I am programmed to omit
cannoli, Elvis, a flashlight in a boot,
shipwrights, the two breasts on the
matchbook Nicole drew for me (breasts
not the matchbook) the glory morning
train (the song not the train)--well,
shit, it's all an idea, I guess. You
are a combination impossible to press
in chorus. Both the peekaboo and long
kinds of need. This is your medal.
This is also a heretofore uncharted
mood named Kitten in a Cedar, named
Chicory and Whiskey. Three moods, I
guess: cruel, nervous, and love poem.