Down By The River

Ibbly: beveled morphology and a snack tuna on cables.
Smack me so it leaves a mark. My interior is pox-ridden
and smooth of squeeze it reheats the dusty chops.
One warm breast spills out of a turtle neck.
Click shut the refrigerator door, cleaving the soy patty,
falling limp as tissue into the freshwater mainstream squirming
from the crinkled tube.
Watch on the freeway the tires unravel into sparks and ha ha death:
30 ballpeen shots to the noggin.

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