6/4/12

Chicken


As a boy my dad lit his leg on fire and they 
did a graft where no hair grows. A man sings 
for my neighbor's building's intercom. I want 
to say the leg don't fit in such slick skin. Shiny 
state's shape down the side calf. My phone 
slips across the floor. Look I might call to you, 
you rare thing. Or to the muddy lake I think's 
an ocean. The sea we'll never lose ourselves 
in. You drive the highway and a white line 
skirts your shoulder. Long stretch on a 
sunblonde strip.

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