Hey Garland, I dig your tweed coat. I'll trade you a 
domino this size, mothball-scented. The woman silk nude 
tie painting his chest. One celluloid stay exposed 
through his nibbled collar. Feet speckled the sidewalk. 
Faces gurgled through windows. Passing cars gum rubber 
streaks. Neon plants swim like green seaweed to a deep 
rhythm of blues. Red thyroid sunsets, flame in speckled 
chemistry. Pipes run off dark tubes. Erase into marks 
that pour the dye of darkness. Crystal comes together 
as silent as ink. 
"I don't think I could let it go. I got it at the 
religious scene" 
Teeth let go, tobacco juice, an oiled balloon, brown 
eye in an egg white, black tar bubbles and stripes. A 
straw hat squeaked on the brim of a feather. Newsprint 
thumbed through nicotine fingers, a dark olive was 
turned on. Its small pulp speaker burst into a scream. 
One large tomato was immediately peeled skin red. It 
bled into a red "O" and smacked behind accepted fangs. 
Quick eyebrows danced cutely above a mole. The bridge 
held a large gold pair of spectacles. The front was 
smooth. It slightly gathered and wrinkled at the holes. 
A dark wooden moustache deposited below above Chinese 
red varnished lips that dented slightly into the 
evening. 
"It's gotten quite cold. I've decided I can't sell you 
my coat." 
Honking, the wind puffed into the clumps above the 
lattice rows. And out looked Panatella, naked and not 
ashamed, without no clothes. Wiggle Pig went snout-
first into a tree. The rubber turkey was gobbled up by 
the night's dark rubber mouth. A white phosphorous 
raindrop dropped in the sky. Hot silhouettes in a 
convertible gave this applause. And several white 
porcelain trays were rolled in by bumblebees. Their 
wings arranged with pictures out of the past. And the 
rainbow baboon gobbled fifteen fish eyes with each 
spoon. Pockets was caught at window level. Approaching 
the fractured glass, dripping in light, he spoke: "I've 
just looked at myself, and from here to here it ain't 
far enough, but from here to here it's too short." "And 
circles don't fly, they float," Pena exclaimed and went 
on to say, "Sun sure did shine this year. Who'd you 
look like underneath?" 
Steve Robey sent this to Justin, along with this 
amusing story:
'During college (1987-1991), my friend Rob and I would 
go up to drunk partygoers and recite this entire piece 
in their ears (one in the left, one in the right). 
Turned many an otherwise conservative, mainstream drunk 
into a very confused, conservative, mainstream 
drunk.....