keep close to me
you and your mistress
american dream
soon you and your wet feet
will be hot as ifrit’s armpits
your lovemaking was like old books
burning the truth from your head
camping on the carpet of cowardice
a tent made from blankets
but your trailing yellow streak thinks
we’re outside
where
between the madness and the blind she is waiting
her breath is graveyards
she spits headstones and banal epitaphs
dead decades before the deceased
what are you sprinkling on cold biers for?
you hide it so well
you’re so dead inside
so set the house on fire
sweep up your dreams with dust pans
burn her picketed prison
as skuzzy as motel linens
the sieve and the sand 
One time I stayed at a motel and everything was bright pink and the whole place smelled like smoke and the floors were tile and the beds were too soft and it was the sort of thing you’d imagine as a plot device for a cheesy murder mystery but really there was just a lot of cuckolding going on there I’m sure but anyway your piece is fantastic.