A Cold Reflection

A cold reflection on a mirror pavement wet with rain,

I wink my violet eye,

My collar high against the wind.

A dried out roll-up on an empty stomach;

Any comfort, as I roam the streets.

A willing conscript to sign in rhesus positive

For some fleeting belletrism,

I chase the success envy believes me to be,

Like a marionette without strings,

Drowning in this lazy river

Of tepid ink.

A heartbeat flicker like a wasp in a jar:

An alternatina teenager

In tyrannic nothing-dresses.

I court a frankenstitched friendship,

kiss her sweet-sweat neck

She somehow avoids arrest.

The laughter of sidemen from behind their instruments

As i consult the haruspex;

I suggest the motions of a wanderer;

Any disproportion of whisky could kill me,

Waiting in half-assumed stances.

Some miracle of adhesion:

I watch the shirt buttons strain across her bust.

I prefigure my hands in frustration

My guts in a twist

As trying to turn a needle inside-out.

Pin-stripes on all sides as two colts climb

Through ten paces;

I flash a bruised smile

Flip a table smashing glasses left and right.

I raise my .38, plug one through his leg,

He falls to the floor,

another in his chest,

So he knows he’s finished.