mmmlxii

Fish Cat

I hereby acknowledge that I have outlined my ex
pected responsibilities, per Zero’s Italian masseuse.
I’ll be responsible for seeking guidance from the
local news on my walk to the burger joint in the
afternoon. How so fruitful this foray, evasions not
withstanding. My final decision endures the sheer
transparency of this desperate language. I blow my
blue rose into a punch bowl, Zero’s favorite red one,
reboot, and bitterly escape narrative, by an inch or a
milliliter, depending on London. I’ll ask how much
lunch is on boiled snakes and high-squeezing snobs.
Sounds better non-plural. Promise me we’ll be green
in December. The lint on my [apples] is a Cheshire
smile, but its yellow bow-tie won’t snap us out of it.