Cap’n Jazz- Yes, I Am Talking To You

Let’s ‘fess up to firecrackerjack snacks & a piggy bank built & filled to be spilled & broken. Hammy fat fingers pink clammy cold coins. All the leaves with a sickly brittle brown. I’m dying to tell you I’m dying. I don’t need a reason! You’ve got yourself such a comfortable trap. Yes, I am talking to you. Yes, I know this is shameless. Yes, I am talking to you. You’ve got yourself such a comfortable trap. 

A matinee of sunshine ribbons on a sheet-less mattress. Moonlighting as swooning. Moonlight isn’t really from the moon at all. I am shining smiles & flowery glows. I am drunk in the breeze in the park chasing kites & splashing puddles. Forget me knots in my gut. That’s what you get. We nibbled butter cookie rings to the knuckle. Artichoke trophies choked down through Nevada sandy enzymes, past ribs choking scorching heart, down to an autotrophic stomach. I called her June, until that late Spring, quite possibly March leap year. Automatic trophies aren’t shit.