in thicker stardust you might wash me but i
'm still coming Up eights; jovial
toasties

in the average or you've got
maybe half a goldmine: the rest
takes dime shots 'cross traintracks beaten into
billiard tables, and the municipal idioms
bend backwards to be forgotten.

leaning cartilage lumps across
the record machine, waiting for the
cowboys to arrive

"sHe d-an-ce with 2 left feet
, ja?
but sHe dun walk in no
strate lines."