STOCK-TAKING
Like a mule in a swamp.
Hey lady, there's no legs in
your stockings! Here's where
the counting begins. I can't just
bide my time while the edifice
crumbles and the horse gets put
before the cart. Finally. Something.
Matters. There's a new moon over
Miami, and it's coming your way.
Yes, doctor, it hurts, underneath
my fingernail. Where the torturer
had pressed in the long pin.
No comments:
Post a Comment