The Year In Muscle Cars

 

Embedded like false prongs
Does not reverse our speeding
Athematically double booked, against
The hard acoustic premise

Which does not splatter, but is
Lent
Or thought about, in a distinctly sexual
Way— to lend the book the premise

False, yet tender in its maladjusted
Fakery, fucking up prime
Increments increasing
Unrepeatable as jade

I didn't want the accident to interfere with the usual
Panic
Thrust in redundant patio laminators
At frantic intervals, of which you sought

To interfere with my two-fistedness
My unstable glamour
The uncharted as severely post-Monster
Which predicates some consciousness of drifting

Down along a fashion legacy
Grown solider in monochrome
Though pumping minions up the amp
With blondness prone to contortion

It's all social, at the undertones
Leaning to ramble or alter
What's also spent, at least in part:
Experts rising solo

 

 

back to issue three

 

 

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