Being Kissed On The Back

I Remember The Stink Of The Liverwurst. How I Was Put On A Platter And Laid Between The Mayonnaise And The Bacon. The Rhythm Of The Refrigerator Had Been Disturbed.

The Fish Are Naked. The Fish Are Always Awake. They Are The Color Of Old Spoons And Caramels.

The Stars Are Pears That No One Can Reach, Even For A Wedding. Perhaps For A Death.

Poor Thing. To Die And Never See Brooklyn.

Put Your Ear Down Close To Your Soul And Listen Hard.