Youandi
had that wishtooth extracted in its late teens
~
because I’ll spill the have beens if I begin
to suspect or even merely
consider the possibility that I have
perchance with a plonk
tumbled out of the Blue
and plonk back into
another It, naturally,
but the same ol’ same ol’
cheap out-of-the-question.
~
queen of spades, her mid parting
endearing me beyond hope
of making it through the thirteen clubs
past the time-ants
into the heart.
~
because, on an impulse to cogitation,
I’ll take none of the mush-yarn.
rise and whine beneath gelid ablutions,
cream of celery soup and a variety of spinach salads,
a crap job in a crap climate
- s’posed to cure us of pink head,
not that you were pink, mind,
you’re a whirlwind, colourfree kind.
when it comes, you’ll know -
that’s what they say regarding it all
save me.
