yeah?

flying through the Cosmos like red hot
piss
only in tune with a pustule
spot of yellow upon
the end of a
finger,
this gotten somewhere
with a dream-like
squeeze…

certainly this is enough to hold
a truce with;
no more is needed and no
less
as outside
the engines of night
falter a moment,
I recall reading in this
morning’s paper
that old Reg Jackson
is going to give up
DH
and shag them again
in the
outfield.

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