the wind brags with his watch collection

probably it has nothing to do with anything tonight

it’s just another express post packet of exhales

the cankerous night nibbles its own fingernails


it sends over a couple of guard dogs

to set things straight

no tresspasing

read the signs

but the wind continues to leave his nets

and sends decoys inside

the crevice of a slanted window turns into a mouth

and his teeth chatter

his white goat beard bellydances

hey little one, have you heard this one

no, leave me alone

I’ve got work to do

just one song and I’ll leave you to it

he coughs one two three

the melody stretches in its recliner under the sun

there’s pina colada on the table

and its Pacific rimmed straw hat

bumps over the uneven lines of a bronzed body

the wind sends me another Frisbee

this time its vacuum pack holds

odours of weed and armpits and concrete piss

the joke’s on you Dear

I seal it with a letter kiss

and leave my index-finger’s imprint in the cherry hot wax

leave it unopened



we have a deal

play the next song.



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