Clouds in asphalt, in the graffiti of sweet things,
Swinging their hips to the store to buy roses for
Themselves while the rain slings;
Oh, I’ve been singing out of school early again,
Watching the honeys picking up gas- I’m raggedy
In the brambles all my scars are browned bagged:
Every tender v is higher strung than I;
Oh, how sweet it is not to have to look one titted thing
In one venal eye; to enjoy the reasons of the gainfully
Unemployed- to fart in the litters of death’s convoy-
The reptilian monarchy knows better words,
Ruling forever their flamingoes’ soft conflagration,
The easy pantomime of frightening flight the housewives
Put to good use in their sororities satin-lined;
Areolas and suvs, runs in their pantyhose, gurgles from
The park swings; I drink whatever liquor I find stashed
Out back in the weeds beneath the clothes-line;
And I swing underneath the brindled palmettos-
I hook my arcs and curveballs far to the corner of where
The better girls have warmed to the infinitely better gentlemen,
Their children mewing like breast-fed kittens;
And I fart and tell jokes to shadows, my eyes ever present
To the swimming skeleton of the singing wind chimes.