WE TIGERS

fingertip skinprints on the back of the stall left an essence;
and a name;
and a number;
and a bag and some babies on the floor
as dollar bills flap their way into your pockets
and grownmen squeal at the sight of your stomach
(from asphalt sidewalks past glass (panes of it(i paid five fifty to see this shit??)))

if you stare at your palms long enough
they become tree trunks and the arms are a jungle and the bodies a continent
to be conquered and quartered, when the only thing forever
is the plants and the plant dust less so the plant products
(a billion men working for ford making children with their hands(tar kids))

my nose is full or rich dirt to dirty my lungs, make my air hurt
breathe DEEP of Y.A.Y deposits
like a narwhal in the arctic
like a whale in a teacup
he’ll get used to it if that’s all we ever tell him
and be halfway to true before he/we/I can tell the difference

with the lights out
we’re all lumps in the dark
could be animals
or apples
or
aniapple Dole cocktail
swimming thru the syrup of our sugar water saltine sweat based gland tears (to run from top to bottom between space
(to wake up and find me nothing but a body and some calories and a decorative skin peel,))
wouldn’t that be something