Friday, March 3, 2017

Atlantic City Postcard

The stars are stranded over the highs.
Someone tied a mylar balloon to a cactus.
It dances like the eighties.
The green is dead,

but the green is not immured.
The bride is alive, skipping.
Animals pee on your skull.
I pee on your skull.

His mother thinks he is still "dang handsome."

In Las Vegas a bit too long.

He asked me what I thought.

All I could say: "piggishly smooth."

"You have a nice chin."

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