82

This excitement barrelling down on me. My jaw's numb. The shiny mind at the edge of thin mints. The escalator at the 53rd and Lex E stop, if you time it right, can brighten up your morning. I've never tried moonshine, actually. I'd like to trade my airplane full of prisoners of war for your quiet plaza of vinculum steam. Gimpy layaway plan, friggin' Giuliani. Now I'm wishing for a well-plotted klezmer sequel. Now I'm calling a coworker "Smallville." It's all a reference, but the reference library has no door. It's all several references. Lemon juice douche, isn't that a Beach Boys' song? And we'll have funk fuck crunk till your daddy gets the Enigma machine working again. Or is life really that good. OK, the gold rush is over, but look at these lianas. Suddenly I am in front of a dog in REM sleep, paws and sides twitching. Just think of all that failed ambition. Dog codes. Color in a stay-at-home buffalo grin.