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aslanteither way
.
.
.
every night
you've got to hide your love away.
it sticks in my craw. the day is so long. robert is on the telephone talking of kid gloves.
a pain in the lower back. something wrenched wretchedly. i think from tracy's boxes on the loading dock where i paced as she drove up. abandoned and suspicious crates. i turn and crank the spine but elicit only half-sparks, low glimmers. i slump into it.
talk of biological warfare. gas masks in new york. an unmarked silver van that slowly circles the city.
the nectarine has rotted. a fine film of sugared ooze. instead i suck on the last of the orange cough drops left over from florence. i tear away the paper slo w and stead y. the curve of menthol sugars.
no word from m.
.
.
.
every night
you've got to hide your love away.
it sticks in my craw. the day is so long. robert is on the telephone talking of kid gloves.
a pain in the lower back. something wrenched wretchedly. i think from tracy's boxes on the loading dock where i paced as she drove up. abandoned and suspicious crates. i turn and crank the spine but elicit only half-sparks, low glimmers. i slump into it.
talk of biological warfare. gas masks in new york. an unmarked silver van that slowly circles the city.
the nectarine has rotted. a fine film of sugared ooze. instead i suck on the last of the orange cough drops left over from florence. i tear away the paper slo w and stead y. the curve of menthol sugars.
no word from m.
