FUR, LOTTERY TICKETS, SPEARMINT GUM, PIECES OF A CHANDELIER 


there's a kind of beetle that lays frost on the tops of tables
melts antiquities with hot amber
it's really gooey
when I was working the cash at the corner store
a guy with floppy hair robbed me at gunpoint
but he didn't have a gun just an erection
the little carved idols are all melted now
the soft shock doesn't even register on my eyebrows
just take whatever get away from me
I'd love it if you left a twenty to spare
the frost is cracking
I need to buy something that's older than all this plastic
if I get home in time I will find you
cross
making coffee for the guests I forgot I'd have
playing nice
look who's here honey
my shitty couch hair
our guests mouths
ATMs spitting out gold threaded bras
their teacups sticking
to the cooling coals of the glass tabletop
and I’m like a Volvo on fire
giving what I can
where I can
and feeling too touched