rolling over in burnt blankets of mistakes & seething at the mere mention of the name that echoes most recently through the maddened mind like a gong being dragged through a city street
early morning & they get together to load up the truck with the lawnmowers, blowers, rakes, digging tools of sorts, weed eaters, trimmers, hedge clippers & their long arm grabbers---
a man at the edge of his rope sat with a pistol in his mouth one saturday night going over all the things that had happened in his life which he felt had led to this particular moment &
before going down to the Nuyorican, she spent her time that afternoon writing down her innermost thoughts on small pieces of paper. after composing her masterpieces,
she couldn’t get a tan that would make the grade round prom time & so off to the cancer cocoons she went, cooking herself crisp & as orange as barbecued chicken---