Talking about the days eyes
pink, herbaceous, double blooms
and the kingdom of bondmen
or the use of weird [fate] ziplock.
The canny lasses pass us by
leaving faint traces of smile.
We are interesting mannerisms
to the eyes of night, in the mixed
behavior of genetic produce or
lait caillé, MA. Dust settling on
a lightbulb in the supermarket aisle
[dreams of pushing my son around
canned food that does not expire].
Smoldering tobacco trance, the waltz
of fumes and days like old jewels
laying there as if digesting mice.
Expiry dated, unadulterated good,
a chapter of bringing charm to nether
perfected as the summer ends, sibilant
in the dairy section of a ghostly train.
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