For Alan

Beer between Chinese confections
later, the duvet upside down
"she's an ultimate fighter"
& an innocent bouncer gets knocked around
park it
hype, the archetype, trailing "beautiful women"
all down the aphorism
whose defense depends on the range of the rockets
that long arm reaching down
ready to work, diving in to steal the thorn
to be himself
but no one ever taught him
to use his cranium (don't knock it,
anyway, it belongs to him)
so he holds his breath, headlocks & kisses me
strikes & strikes out.

Meanwhile the leather princess of whales
a visionary metaphysician and very attractive magnet
is getting ahead
in the sonar murk of
suffering, desire, & Lucky Super 8

at T-N-T, the convivial supermarket
at the bottom of Cherry-bomb St

Bottoms up, Alan, we ain't hurt, tough, or driving.