i must admit you shout like a trench coat.
what i am trying to say is that,
i have been mauling bears. been throwing pillows through glass.
you might say spoons are the only company i keep.
it’s not that i lie, but the truth has been standing around,
pouring wine in its mouth. drunker than a gazebo,
it’s habitual. that there’s something between the avenue,
thunder in the crockpot.
what gathers now is a decoy.