We can gaze at constellations, through the rash
haze of streetlamps;
We can fetch fat bullfrogs to bait our hooks for
catching rattlers;
We can dodge bullets; we can go play pattycake
on the edge of town;
We can stall until all choice is flown, blown, like
old rosebeds; or
We can our talk, play The Walk Of Love, and fuck
like branded demons.














21 old applause
