Incensed at the sun’s insolence . . .

DAWNING CONSCIOUSNESS

She wakes grimly febrile,
desperately nostalgic
for dawdling in ditches
of tadpoles,
wagering glass
marbles in snow lanes,
sewing mini skirts
for her Barbie,
mashed potatoes,
fried baloney,
the gag reflex.

She shuts her eyes,
snubbing the town’s lens
zooming in on her culpability,
incensed at the sun’s insolence,
rising despite collisions,
the most recent death toll.

She groans, engulfed in tokens
of admirers, embattled by,
dreading the delirium of desire,
one resolutely phlegmatic
as the other effuses, plummets.
No incidental leaf
but a loose lunatic rook
lit mate old school canon
raining down like a medicine ball.

Men ostensibly,
on, off or side tracked
interpersonals interpenetrating
fictions, demands, tousles
delightfully incessant.

No accident this transport back
to forsaken tracks,
giant drainpipe beneath.
I engineered it.
I, of humble origin,
melancholy disposition
provide stimulation,
provoke the atmosphere,
orchestrate the robberies.

I, in the cliché of a crisp white shirt
and black hat
inflict pain, increase pressure,
draw hostility, reel in crisis
commonly referred to
as authentic experience.
I dare to sprawl,
invite expansion
as vital to my vitals
as blood on needlework.

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