Go Team

Your angel is made of lightweight
carbon fiber. The words you use under
no name glasses are tinted to the spectrum
of glee by modes unheard of in universal slimming
formulas. The windswept riverside is ready
for your umber feet. All the pretty birds are raising
their wings in a manner that says thrust,
offal, or bang. Thin and radiant,
all the paths lead to your elegant stews.
A twenty-seven dollar bird cooked in salt?
I am into your tender flesh thank you
for threading the needle of my hunger
in an effort to remove anxiety, self pity,
doubt, durable goods. I'll see to it
that your bones are negative landscaped
somewhere along Bleeker Street
another high end pedestrian mall
waiting for yonder cupcakes.