95 5 2
|
serial number of the Hofner bass I pawned
in '86, costs a hundred grand today
|
47 2 1
|
so I hug, skin tight to a road shoulder,
my scabby dashboard the wattle of a box turtle's snout
|
114 5 3
|
D’Onofrio sipped Southern Comfort and cold blueberry syrup, bent double and dry heaving on the grave of Jackson Pollock.
|
129 4 3
|
A crazy jock called Siggy in the Morning, bellows "nein! nein! nein! nein! nein!"
|
34 2 2
|
cobra buckle with garnet fangs, oh Colt 45 and Lordy
|
82 7 7
|
delectably
sweating in light rain if you wish
to know,
|
98 10 5
|
smell the , Foreplay,-- all they knew
|
1109 11 9
|
When Chuck dies, I’ll throw/
a party and dance, a little drunk,/
across what I’ll pretend/
is the old shit’s grave.
|
95 8 8
|
a muffin might leave its mark
|