A corset pulled tight across
the camera eye. Memories
submerged in red water,
mustard gas, pocket lint.
A car rolling aimlessly
down Western avenue towards nowhere
in particular with a rotting
corpse in the trunk- soft
like stale popcorn, like asparagus-
leaking gold satin sheets
and sambuca from Evanston
to 66th.
When a flower breaks down,
petals pink-slipped,
stem evicted, bees bumbling
elsewhere, pluck it, stuff it
in your mouth,
chew.
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