A Fevered Moon, Yeah
A cracked block I wish it.
—Guy Birchard
Careful not to fill your words
with arrogance, throw in a little
French, the 1980s. You’ve a lap
that can’t keep a napkin and a
furrish cap that is not a pomeranian.
You’re a flutterer kicking chaste
copper to the brick.
Ask for extra Xanax, or whether
it can be repaired so that we’re
up at 8am. The cat’s going
pajamas over the pick-
pocket paint.
