If you must e-mail me at work
to set up a time to embosk
ourselves, leave a solvent trail
the big guys in the petrified rock
can't trace, like a hammock of hemp,
or carry a flask on the tram.
You're better off texting me things
with your musk to baffle the hounds.
Now that Quasar Estrus loves me,
I've no [content] left, just locker
frolic and her overnight friend
who dyes the windows, and cracks
a bottle of Bombay Sapphire
and an orange Sappho (mask marker).
Silvery finish and etch crutch.
Who brought me these sweet striations.
Scrap gold: lemonade whiskers: my
drinking buddy scrapes a book of
hexes, and a cloth limelight kit,
when at the converted airship
we arrayed these calcium cards
diabolical. The Pseudo-
Scorpio, lemniscate skater,
moon glob, gall, the red vinyl boots.
|tim botta lives in North Carolina. His work has appeared in alice blue, MiPOesias, word for/word, and zafusy.|