the things we use to dance to
A door slams
on a drink coaster featuring
an antiquated Hollywood scene—
captions eliminated;
Virgin mad magnolias
sync up into vases
praying the sun.
“Can’t take this anymore?”
Coral centers her
omnipresent hopscotch
verbiage into weapons untimely:
(lovely lines there beautiful: an elegy.)
These are sent back neatly however
in the post,
with an executable tag
similiar to haiku
meditated on high range peak
in modest attire.
(Near 2 o’clock on the L train)
Listening to the border of the universe,
while pixelated leaves park themselves
in segmented fashion,
counter to the waves produced by machines
maximized in car commercials—
hybritized in magazines.
(a conversation overheard)
“Why don’t you just take this part
and remember forever
the times read by others in the daily;
no one has to know,
because its fixed…
and has a taste almost
similar to sugarcane.”
