i fillet the couch cushion
mince the green clouds with my eyes
stampede along the bubbling bank
and prance the words out of my legs
the ersatz grass walks gently in humid time
until sweetness condenses into salt cysts
on the corner of my ears
breath fumbles out like crumbled feta
staccato and white
blooming the silence into maturity
apprehension sneaks up, a gazelle jumping
into the clammy future vacuum of somethingness
which casts its shadow upon a soft liver
and twitching pancreas
the stick shift vaults backwards to reclaim
its perpetual loss and gets stuck
somewhere inbetween

today’s gimmick is
absurdity
and i’m all out of meatballs