Dear Liza/Dear Henry

“It must be something
in the water.”

—She said

“It must be something
about the plastic
the water is contained in.”

—He said—

“It must be something
regarding the machines
which process the plastic
the water is contained in.”

—She said—

“It must be something
on or around the hands
controlling the machines
which process the plastic
the water is contained in.”

—He said—

“It must be something
under the water meant to clean
on or around the hands
controlling the machines
which process the plastic
the water is contained in.”

—She said—

“It must be something
in the water.”

—He said

The Near Kissed

Living on Empire State Building’s
toppling—toppling,

newsy New York tastes
this aged curmudgeon,

breath from salamis; American cheese
yellow orange papered onions

strung along
gold yellow horse,

yellow player bumping up
my purple

electrical Polo.

Whatever You’re Asking For

A cornsilk mane, atop wiry frame,
laconic through a Gainseville rose,
accenting gravelly fountains,
brimmed with wine and lipped in nose.

Cigarettes packed, cherries owing,
moons and hearts all a-glowin’,
broken up into two jukebox sides,
‘neath the dark of America snowin’.

Tracked-down treks , half-quarter decks,
memorized wrecks across states on
the sample studied beat—applying
his simmerful muddling heat:

“My girl, my girl, come idea with me,”
sly knocking we needed to slow,
hear a fender tap, of that cherub-wing-cap,
choruses now with us now in the know.