surcease
The cornice is the scream,
trees are maniacal in it.
Ladies live there. Even exits
exist for the entrepreneurs.
Lap of luxury, zeros later
latex smiles and the wherewithal
to perish like a pimp --
delightful Nagasaki.
Or stuck my finger in the
whole empire, interesting
serial subtexts later.
Weekends. Gone are all
your days, leer back at
you like quicksand, fried
apples. Let Poland be
poland -- everywhere there is
fun, fact of absence
or an encore immediacy.
Here on a train, akin
to the moment after
liberalism, every child
merges with an image.