My Version of a Summer Dress
Sominex makes us feel smart, "Guggenheim" smart. Time lapse Hiroshima. Nose candy ligatures.
Your brusque saddle, you saggy foal. Flicking your gelding or tarping your ex. Looking at
your posse with Hoover eyes. My brow, he dreamt of palsy. Let's all do Kegels. Seashell
cookie cutters. Why are we pals? I know we hit it off during the bombings. You liked me.
Here are the casual carts. Full on seaward and pale, lighting eyes. Over-sipping the rum
punch James McAvoy. Our weekend as passengers for her eyes. Tour bus full of nimble blondes
you liked and tittered. Picking crust from your Segway. Like Stevie Nicks and my ethnomusicologist
friends. They are so full of inflatable bananas. Old kin, old winsome beach flings. Old red.
Followed the bug down the hall and listened to Nico. Faker-eyed. Somebody-else. Freeway lips
around a big jug of Sunny D on I-5 with the map light on, again. Yoga in an AMPM. Jumping around
the room with handfuls of spackle. You shake your bodice at me asking, "Crunk?" To the windows
goes the light. Does right by others. In aviators and in mountains. Cage fights just in case.
Clover, adobe, rent. Old sod. Oh cogs and divans! Oakley camaraderie. Ciabatta tapenade and
girls with fear on their faces. The running of the spare tires. Bogged down avenue Michelob
Drano halter top pugilist cactuses. What was wrong with the tubs of Long Beach? Hate me yet?
Welded despots, wannado Visa with me? You don't? Well then I am sorry about all the windows.