Grotesquery

While all the city was under mind-control time,
sludgeleggedly sauntering across crossings.

Chinese Express: 217.328.1818
Call if you want Chinese Food.

Mahaneys Dogs

mud-treading treadmill body
tongue
hanging out like paparazzi
eyeballs
lickin horsefaced hotty
thoroughbred lovin Lottie
16 hot-blooded
hands
& all white.

Preach your god: Free Hotdogs

Peripheral missiles strapped to griffins aimed at your visuals.

The lady has all the catalogs.

Two dreams.

First the one I dreamt last night. A car chase in the American desert, then Alabama, and back to the desert, New Mexico or Arizona. The car is coated in white dust, I am coated in white dust. And then I am watching a movie on a couch with

Maybe I’ll remember more.

The second dream.
I strangle a cop. A hybrid world, a composite of Normal, Gotham City -- the one from Batman the Animated Series -- futuristic 1930s Art Deco, and Reboot, computer animated, purple, ones and zeroes. How did it start? I’m flying a hovercraft through the city. It looks like the land-speeder from Star Wars. Everything is desaturated, almost black and white. Three people in the car. There could be a fourth person. We’ve committed a crime, created lawlessness. livin’ vicious lascivious. Point-blank range hollow-point with the seriousness. What’s your name? I strangle myself and wake up.

the windows taped off,
the carpets laminated.
drunken cowboys
in minivans race around
the track at 300
miles
per
hour.

Roog on loop, mixing rum with chocolate milk, splicing alleys together, running out of clothes.

St. Joe
The Trestle

Sarge.
Sarge's Bus.

Sarge was an old Vietnam Vet, or he said he was. He had this shack next to the railroad tracks and a rusted colorless windowless schoolbus filled with broken glass and pepsi cans. Little kids would go fishing over by Sarge's shack and Sarge would invite the little kids over to his house and offer them drugged pepsi. Then he would take them to the bus.

Sarge would sit in his shack, transmitting on a ham radio, cleaning his guns, when all of a sudden,
"Sarge," the Bus would say,
"What? Who's that?"
"Sarge, it's the Bus."
"Who?"
"The Bus, Sarge. It's the Bus. I'm hungry, Sarge. Bring me something to eat."