(downstage left) ENTERS LOUDLY: the comfort of a luxury hotel lobby
An ego reflects iridescent
in the gilt, its body rolls laterally
to favor high value angles.
She is selling lips: shaved, parted,
a diastema swollen with cocaine.
Her breaths a brachycephalic dog
waking from a nightmare
of a perpetual moan heard
only by bitcoin johns.
(center) MALE INDEX FINGER: strumps across the glass of a tablet looking for Instagram
Mother of pearl veneers
hiss behind the curtain
of an inflated labrum, generous
with technology. Evolved
silicon anxious to be
found by a future archaeologist
in a potter’s field
of swaying daisies, afflicted
by their immortality.
(left/offstage) OPEN WINDOW: centered, a shellac glossa automaton plays Billie Eilish
A baritone bullhorn scatters Rumi’s
wisdom, asinine yet unworthy
of Pinocchio’s pleasure island.
A spirituality of scented candles
recasts drug dealers as white shamans
pushing gear she will not buy
but readily use to cultivate a wit
edited into a skin tone trend
of the latest pantone standard.
(apron) NOILE SILK GRAND DRAPE: the stranded protagonist wears proscenium as tiara
A horned gait fawns a litter of
struts born with old age
embroidered driftwood replicates
faster than shipwrecks, tik-toking
into an anachronism
as momentous as a male orgasm.
Lights dim out of charity
to leave her later years devoid
of reflections, veiled in a penumbra
of hyaluronic acid. The warble of
an extinct bird is preserved:
unknown in life, acknowledged in flesh.
