Dis 14, 2014

Mall Santa

Congenital ability to Boom The Bass. Dear puddle of warmth on hectares of tile, oh breath of custard, shiny, shiny rose. Urine lately in absentia, long may you settle for tears. Christ to meet you. Male, evocative, cheek as white as snow, his four words weekly taken to heart, granted allowance: “No regret is too extreme.” If nice or nice in slum clothing, which way to Lot Alpha, where to hang a coat in this weather. Would you like, come on, would you like to ring my bell? A thigh thus constituted: castanets (plastic, and within striking distance), a truck minted in mother-of-pearl. I know you’re not him, but a daughter had this folded for you. “It’s up to your knees out there.”