You’re It, Tag
Spray paint can store record
through mural, stalk stray words,
maul syntax’s small talk. Cat claws,
slaw-like shred. Gag reflex caws
a few bars of sun glare. Sure as bird
and bee speech bumble, hybrid
of fight and flight. Our little level-
headed acquaintance shovels
drinkers’ car keys into his rucksack,
together we declared amphibrach.
I threaded baubles on string theory,
amongst rusted tools shed allergy
tears. I came to harangue sorrow,
tell Faberge tales, wear my toe
tag like a friendship ring. Bottom rung
seemed like a nice spot to hang.
If duck operation, then new goose.
Untagged wall, indecorous use.
The machines sprayed on faces,
stripped self from our carapaces.
Led to big sleep, dead man walked chary.
Achilles heels locked in our diaries.