adventures have time limits, too


daydreamer, swashbuckler, nonsenseburger
cavalier in corduroy, lightly jaded robot cowboy,
pick-up-stix and parlor tricks, can you build
a life through imaginary text messages to
a glass Italian octopus with a broken tentacle?

(“sanitize your octopus” is not a euphemism)

maximum wage hooligan, you’re brave for
living outside of alakazam Alprazolam when
the storm keeps Ragin’ Cajun Redneck Gator
in every nook and cranny of your substance.
if you’re feeling all peanut-butter-and-jelly about
the scheme, about the cultural illusions that sound
and sting like Sylvester Stallone,

(“I’m not trying to be hyperbolic”, muttered levity)

then funny how what separates an
angel from anger is merely five letters.
M-N-O-P-Q. it is a prescribed order.

before a jump into the hula hoop of Charybdis,
neon green and yellow scream,
bind your leg to the unsteady, wooden bridge
and prepare to meet Khali. If you’re dismissed
because your Fedora is sullied,

those Harry Nilsson records might still play.
pop a Colt .45 and chill.

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