Stills from the Tiger's Mind

I love you, for electrical reasons. And the trouble when treason's a way of laddering the frequencies-- Innocence, tantrum, steel drum, clap drum, plank sun, plank, son-- humble walk on, at the risk of sounding mystical, we belong on this thin wire of our need for one another just about to buckle when the phone rings--- Hush-- crushed velvet slippery eyelid tucked into a dream the truths bribe me between them with intuition and their silent duel, huddle, duel again, tricked into another atomic opinion. I could hug my shins and wait for the world to end. A shout out to the g steady selling jars of bubbles on 103rd, though. Even in winter, clear tendrils of soap blowing in the putrid air. I almost forgot. Shout out the macho dude on the 1 train with the pastel pink ice skates draped over his shoulder. My feet were bleeding into lamb's wool after a ballet class and it is strangely pleasurable to watch an empire collapsing in slow motion, thinking, folly for so-what, thinking, I'm one of those token immortals, thinking, the misfits don't look so terrible these days, brave even, caring, thinking, like me, everything I cherish will be essential again, thinking, there he goes again, selling bubbles and cocaine outside of the mcdonals, looking flippant and regal like how it feels to turn into yourself