a solid ham of woman
thick-hipped with a big stern wedge of a head

stomped on my bag of potato chips
on the subway car's
quickly moving floor

my chips exploded under her foot
like a dried old sack of kid skeletons
blonde shards landed in my blonde hair
and she picked one off (pulling a lot of hair with it)
popped it into her mouth, and said
"this is new York, faggot-ass".
I almost liked being sworn at like that.

Yes, she was a big wedge of a woman
fist-fucking all the tunnels in the world
with her terrifying body

Mint cities, into death's silver,
the splendour of so many dogs on so many hillsides,
tucked redness, flickering green, touched redness,
fingering lilies, misplaced octopus tentacle
shoved suckers & saliva down
the open mouth of a rose.

Yellow cities, linked hallways,
hand-holding briar-walkers sporting an oath,
holding dim coals in their hands, black hallway
reciting. And the church alarms, and the grope
near the water fountain, and the secular bells,
and the magazine racks covered in wilted magnolias.

City horses, country horses, stunned ices
covering stunned ponds, smooching with bare lips,
lips barer than the first human, naked in a naked world,
and the baby-pink bats so gently
floating over the corners of the golf course.

Blue cities of the undamned, blue fountain
allowing a yellow flame between such frozen plastics.
Poles of frost are standing next to other poles of ice
all over the graveyard.

In the forks of trees, vagina-tight, a force is hopping hot
under many leaves, the air is staggering through
my nervous system, all driveways are smooth & open
to the entrance of cars. There is no ugly reason now
for worlds to end.

And the truth of a lemon, the layered yellow,
the yellow into white, the beach-chair experience,
all wetness wetter than any skimpy oath,
a girl in summer, locker room metal, drummed
by a steamy array of half-broken hands.

A loyalty shattered neatly into fourths, three bulks
re-united, a bicycle silence, a humming,
a humming in the dragon flys by afternoon. Rotten
place to start, but, a sandy shore re-opened in the fog,
rocks with bitter chemicals in their frozen bellies,
broken under a chisel in the certain rain,
the rain chiseled open by a brighter littler rain,
the rain-birds flying.