..///././/..

Nina Loses The Remote Control

his close echoes surround her teeth
his style is her style

spread out
&
smoke mellowed


she wants his lips
to wiggle on her forearm
his tongue to
make her move
like
a
fast
car

her mouth can taste his face
his saw-hair
his knees

she wants him to grease his thoughts
and slide slower

do you want more?

she nods &
adjusts her eye shine

Tuesday

she woke up with one sock on and
one sock off

they were green knee-socks and
reminded her of the girl scouts and
that goofy sun on the old kellogg's
raisin bran box .

on the mail screen from Valentino Body:
dig, Date: Feb 5:37 AM Spam or ? ]

these `,`,`ords in heads, burn.

clock rod order
arks and your hands
i've flagged tomorrow,
you red bow nanna absorbed in white

Check Clear Next

then
that little slish- swishing sound
like in the beginning of that postal service song,
Such Great Heights

Nina Rides A Hundred Miles In Six Hours

her sleep is mystical nonsense
she can not answer his shape
only sense his face
he has a beard
artfully disguised as soft

after midnight nina gets caught in the mesh of search

passing a mysterious pile-up of kisses
the brakes start cracking &
her windshield buries all mass of runout stars
maybe even footsteps
always beautifully missing

conditions:

she has avalanche dreams
teddybears with eyes cuffed in blue

once champagne fell from the heavens &
a drunk boy put out his cigarette

Nina Smiles..

he is relentless
ping ping ping

she had to google the name
an interview in 3am

a short story about the infected
she thinks perhaps he needs some sunshine
other than the artificial kind

for once the annoying dogs attempting to access her computer
aren't getting on her nerves

her coral hair will soon be
quiet & locked in sleep

the cat naps with her new

dd.element[0]

take a picture, it will last longer

to them of plastic extensions &
perfect buttocks
this solar hole is vulgar

somewhere a motionless lunatic is being struck
& windows applaud by
extending their eyes:

architect
veins
a living taste or waste
wireless
bloodless

malarkey:
a civil layer of jam on cracker

cracker:
donate
raw hide
pinmonkey

a 'thing'

the voice of time is heavy
a revolving satellite
a toilet

is there such a thing as calm
pollution

sang u in o lent

in the hum of dark
cool towers

lovers in the shower

@ gifts.com
a man spends too much on
roses & silly string