Corduroy Coquette

king of the bugs, I'll
eat beetles to show how we
wreck this place,
a straight face to
say I don't love you, motor
boat my lips, a quick sigh
and you've started
sobbing under your breath.

a bag of corduroy clothing,
waiting to be mailed,
i've been thinking about burning it
or returning it, but I couldn't
think of someone else
wearing her style.

These words don't mean anything
to me, sullen smells, a morning
crisp air that fogs the blue
paint. Guessing apologies,
What agony!
A misty doe-eyed rock slinger,
tough to talk and
quick to leave but
too fast on the draw so
she rips her sleeve.

expired coffee doesn't
keep my solid, a gypsy
swindler stole my sugar
sweet, she bashed my
face in with my favorite
kicks, two licks to the center,
shallow candy - her or me?

pulling my string, she's one
hour behind in a airplaine,
it's only an eleven minute
flight to Green Bay, maybe
I'll just be:
positive and aware
I grab
fistfuls of salt and throw
them in the air, because I'm celebrating
a divorce between two
passages or verses of time,
fixed up to finger the numbers
on a telephone, resting between,
cursing her name
when she touches herself
and thinks about me;
here i am,
a clock to my left and a clock
to my right, Wisconsin time
and mine.