Your audience, a casket of jalepeños;
appealing, too hot,
once tasted, once touched,
their aftertaste aided with milk.

I will always remember you as a male wrist
fenced by a yellow circlet of plastic,
eternally permitted to alcoholic entourages.

Phalanx: persons united in a common purpose
to feel something on a Thursday,
superflous day: another one of the children,
anonymous, except for the calendar.

Pogoing, freestyling in sterile,
my handsome in indigo resin,
my hex bomb, capsicum
in residence chasing the group
to become nude at eleven
and then a lost cause on Friday.


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