just some vague dancing patterns on my eyelids
and my sonic earmuffs until
the sharp nose oboist plucked me from
my reverie and poked my nose with
his index finger. his thin white beard, gross
and wispy, a horn rimmed mind bloat and known pedant
staging opera in local gardens with undead liver for libretto.
bygone hippie days in some rusty waterhole. not the half of it.
the grade D meat and stinking egg patties, diabetic soda chug, high heel puncture wounds,dildo padiddle, rabbit shit smoker, and security guard sex scandal. not to mention a romantic fervor for the old south up here in a far off union hollow.
disintegrated brain flakes dusted the surface of the water until the king fish broke the mirror with tiny puckered snout. the old wild world fell to pieces just now.
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