Cipher | VII.V |

My Week in a Poem | July Week 5

I feel like I'll burst
these encased pyrotechnics 
lovers talk by harleys 
fire glows from flutes 
smoke mingles with pine
and dark grace enters
through an open doorway 

sticky tables in the mountains 
and a fine layer of dirt  
their tails stay clean
blowing from head and chin 
the health inspector can piss off
I'll roll you one
get me another Ferrari, will ya?

there's love in the attic 
only I know about
a bacchanal down below 
silver, chrome, steel, and gold
coronating the kaleidoscopic black
bare heads are legal in this state, 
right?