The leash gold plated around a case of Colt 45 and we dragged the gravel from Tiger Rag to Durag at the museum to give it drum and summer’s hand while Redd Foxx is squinting Sanford in his junkyard curses hubcaps and Gary Coleman keeps tackling the same Adidas thief in the Fox Hills Mall parking lot but you are the last child star to ride dialect sweetly and keep your wardrobe of snipers and snow ethically sourced from newsprint speeches and abandoned rose quartz mines
we can upend a rarer crystal over it
we can tear a viande factory to bits
and call your number where it is in the IChing to the task of truth of singing fasting and prayer in a reasonable low and don’t you wanna lash out and seduce someone aloof with me and August Wilson won’t you come back mouth full of silk and
hacking chains
