Lucid hammers drag me home

bright particle man

walks into a milkshake

armrests beaded stacks of gem

graphs cut into the face of ages.

Quartz hands for antique glass

lime buckets of dimly dreamed gin

a straw chair that was toppled over

ceilings mapped by a calendar blazing

with colored numbers

and shells of high sexed eyes.

Left at that mountain stone bench

a crushed can, one deft

and wiggling serpent

cash counters with leaf clenched stems

this field of thorns that flow

that snipped my ticket's

nub.