Little Vines 5/19/22

This week’s assortment.

Another Thursday
Another Corpse sunk by the Boat

thought the listless green yoga mat

the fragile lyric
this faint trickle of water
the last words of the near-dry stream

oh these pink fake-silk pants
adhering to my butt
in the characteristic slither of toxic static cling

How you talk such cyanide!
I’m flattened of course –
but aren’t you getting a little poisonal?

Run along, felines!
and that was the last thing
he ever said.

the night the cake vanishes
leaving only a trail of green sequins behind it –
oh those ants and their fancy dress balls!

that gossip was radioactive fallout
as far as this group was concerned
no Geiger counter reading could keep them from it

a skull ten thousand years old
once my living breathing head
with me inside it

the past –
I cannot erase
its arithmetic

the band’s tuning up
the drummer’s tattoo
a winking eye that sasses the audience
through a tear in his T-shirt

the cloud abrades the blue sky
Ouch! and then

the singer on the stage
the tot in a rage
the words on this page
everyone’s got something to say

Lots of talk None of it can help you –
That particular set of bars
belongs to another jail

You presented her with
a piece cut out of your heart
in the shape of the letter L

just as you doze off
you wonder if
you really should have bleached those towels after all

I can assure you
a smoking hot afterlife
is not on the same desirability level
as other smoking hot things

the pompous bleakness of a closet full of
white starched oxford-cloth work shirts

Visit the laundromat
Think of us
A million single socks all in here somewhere

slick gent braying wife bellowing boss gossipy grandma
two bratty one smug all tattletale kids Mega-wasps
sting them dead in a jam factory. Don’t like this plot?
I’ve got millions more. Snarky nurse jovial

7 thoughts on “Little Vines 5/19/22

    • I still think of my office days way back when, and wearing a slip, and the static cling, and our coworker who had a can of this spray that would de cling you, but you had to go in her office, close the door, and lift up your skirt so she could spray this freezing cold stuff on your pantyhose legs. Oh those were the days.

  1. There is an ominous tone and atmosphere running throughout many of the LVs this week and I love it! My favourite was the metaphor of someone talking cyanide.

    • Yes, I thought the same thing, there is a dark thread holding these together, and I don’t know why. I do know I read 4 or 5 crime novels this week, maybe that is it. That cyanide one, I just love the word “cyanide” and yet for some reason I felt a bit playful with the idea of it???

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