Not to be party to night, but
anguisht little mite, went
from quick lark (unpresumptive at first)
to the turnscrew happenstance
all too well known
there is a culvert of time there
of snowswirls
the thumbdrive that each iota
alive: he is a drugged boy
how could you have…but
you did not put there
but is there. Slack
sinew and elastic
the night
the ruddy cotton fluff
the half ruint pint of Newcastle Brown Ale
remonstrance,
the buckshot
-sized globules of solder,
some organic compound
compacted to an orange
-red striated pellet
of salt
ethanol concentrate
tetrahydrocannabinol
and tin-foil gone matte.
That one hurt.
