You punch me in the face and blue flowers bloom.
Use the word negro until it looks through you like a mirror reflecting a ghost
Get close enough to disappear into the vanishing sound of your own nearness/ behind the
curtain, a spotlight
Hail a cab on 5th
Hail a cab in a movie/ stilettos under fake snowflakes
I loves you, Porgy (don’t let him…
Fuck the police. On the count of three say, fuck…
Pimps ain’t shit, neither (plantation tours for sale)
(Please don’t) Sign on the dotted line /that classic lean of yours/and mine
Beneath this mask I’m even happier
You punch me in the face and 9 radios play, silence
And like mimes rolling dice with chalk on their lips and cool-aged smiles and you blend in
with the dice, a scoop of chance in black and
A Bojangles-flashback-having diva modest and impossibly alert until
Heroine pours out of Miles’ trumpet and into nine forms, a child
You punch him in the face and twin muses bloom, talk about infinity like a promise and fluke and
Become one
