Another black hose down slow snake so down so clean whip stains with machine aim meaning at a fuzzy frenzied mangle of tone blown through silver afro roman protest hymn couldn’t be so sure it was Maa fa ‘s pastoral but you mumbled she’s a pastor in the checkout line over a chorus of machines clutzing paper toward its quota what ruptured franchise told of deafening scooting ears towards the weathered ledge of hearsay or the banal heresy of craving Riri’s rabid didn’t I tell you that I was a savage mama snorted white wishbone hash could have passed for the matted tofu in my lunch pail while I did the Cabbage Patch in the middle of an abandoned electronics store and all the screens wore me for selling, mama in the corner snorting staticy coke off the broken one and waiting for Willie Hutch to come over to get over / to crush and distill her into a fine pearlescent powder he could wear in public like the sun tumbling isotope of mulatto indifference so aloof so vigilant so trapped in hints everything must go so mating dance whimper come calamitously close to Johnny Cash husking the molten propaganda into a pace meant to ruin enthusiasm with pleasure
The addicts had it all the stereos and their barren roll call/ the rollerblades and the swtichblades and the rebel belle rolling out like an ancient scroll counting to eight over and over the way a circle reaches she held out for them
