Life is short, she said, let’s have an affair.
Be my cock, selfish fist. Ox, how heavy
is thy yoke? and keep hands on our thighs, ‘k?
Through rough exits, into howling gales or
Through rough exits, into howling gales or
onto frozen seats, expulsion. Girl gore
linen clad bottoms bobbing on runway
linen clad bottoms bobbing on runway
wood heels. Rubbin’ sticks ‘n stones and beastie
boppin.’ All girlware, croon leading nowhere.
Then she will shine and be my kissin’ kin,
sista’ gazook. Inhale, sista’ girl smears
Detroit greasy. All this cityscape sin
gonna crash in, slim. Sista’ sick as tears.
Sick as smears. Sista’ pass the bowl. One whiff.
One puff. I rise, this fable waving stiff.
memories of my ghost sista 