Repentantly, I Embrace the Jolt Inflicted by the Strange Fit of an Heirloom Traje
A bid for drapes, guey.
Routs of the agile homeboy and his tapa.
La corbata. Estos estirantes. Ay, jaino—
9:51 pm. I pay my respects.
And this velvety arm of nite unhinged,
So flaccid, and whose apologetic aguilas
magnify a root;
Lungs veer. The tripas leer. And the pupil is
a stout veneer of pinstripe and oyster shell.
This is not 1941. I am Stranger in these
Looking, looking but no cliqua. No ride.