Designer fountain pen
with Mickey Mouse eyes.
Catwalk up to me
with daisy-chained bicuspids
and hand the bomb remote to a stranger.

Finger poke
the walnut groves
as retirement homes look on.
Danger me a fancier name,
I seldom hit my stride before 11.

The zenith of zany
transmogrified to opaque fruit
of various texture and sensation.

Prison lick the clean ice
and segue stab the darting eyes
that woke you up in the morning.

08/18/2015