in the humble stence of nativity
|
hummed the smell of television snow
|
a faint S.O.S. flickering
|
riding on the coattails of their ground zero
|
neighborhood footprints ingrown
|
the daylight savings time will never know
|
of this alabaster cold
|
|
your lovers quarrel ended up in crawspace
|
dental identities will tell us apart
|
teeth marked and bounded with sighs
|
step into my parlor
|
said the spider to the fly
|
stable hooved footprints ingrown
|
|
cloak and dagger muzak blared in ohms
|
in this alabaster cold
|
ingrown
|
|
more calibur per capita
|
breakfast table search team implodes
|
the milk cartons that pour will never know
|
of this alabaster cold
|
|
-----------------
|
Pick Pocket
|
| At The Drive-In |
