Wichita Lineman
pitches up
out of the blue
Lacuna
inquiring:
Was you not once a carpfish
plagued by crippling doubts
about a distant golden
age of innocence?
Yes,I was once that Carpfish
You confirm resonantly
with disarming brevity
quasi-presidentially
semi-residentially
taking it all in
your jackboot
crushing a face
stride
making cryptic hand signals
in clipped bespoken
cabalistic tongues
Yes. I was that Carpfish:
for old halibuts die hard
go hang a sharp left at
Cape Codology
there
bipolar dancing bears picnic
out on melting strawberry
ice floats on mustard
wallowing in unabashed self-pity
seconds before the bullet
hit you in the forehead
Trespassers will be Executed
read the flashing pulsar
over the black horizon
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