you can tell by my dastardly mustache
that I am about to ruin the ambiance
with another disturbing theory of magic    my kink
is pharmaceuticals    that discourage immolation    my kink
is tying a poem up    on the railroad tracks    flattening

the old penny you lost on the bike path overgrown with dying
milkweed    black blood weeping    from your skinned knee
like an optical illusion    I wish I could shake    your face    out of my head
tell me something    you remember

pulling out your eyelashes    feeding them
to the foxglove   a pocket full    of butterfly legs    you pick your teeth with
a brass spur    you slurp     like a hummingbird    bound
like a hound in tall grass    a clumsy epiphany    I make great strides
toward perspective    straddling    the moon    between my thumb & pointer

I am getting older   & running out of vocabulary    I need
precisely tuned attention    to witness    my goodness    I release
ladybugs    into your garden    I blow out the candles
on your birthday cake    & wish for you
to never get your wish