Tart Smack

I keep bubblegum wrappers with notations, your vice villanellecherry pop and pancreas Polyjuice, an exchange of habitsand horror story whores emasculated by the way you tiptoearound the side of a wet pool, avoiding splinters and slipsof nipples with your bad knees bad vibes bad juju.

I’m jealousy. Full-bodied jealousy. Full-bodied and green applejealousy. A tart smack across your face when I want your full-bodiedrejection. Let this old man have you and I will let you have them.An astronomy of nonsense inswept of brat like mockery. Or skepticism?Who am I to keep a good muse tied to the underground, my pocketfull of confetti torn from starburst and construction paper.I admire you. From the height of middle school until your dying day.If ever there were a time and place, you live there, like poisedmagpies, with predatory V formation on my mind. I crawl to you,one life lesson at a time. Beyond that, I know nothing about you.

The sum of your whole is, in a bass drop, the hole of everything.