feet get stuck at the next street corner that's where this thing is like happening some contemporary artist doing a real-time-hands-on-inside-pouring-out-vivid-as-fuck performance non smoking people gather round, not smoking, he's been commissioned by an ad agency, one voice tells the other, they sure have to try harder nowadays, adds the press, what's he doing, mommy, well by the looks of those
test tubes
red pot
boiling glass
table manners
of it
turning the blood of a poet into tap water.
sip not, move on, get some flash fiction at the market, oh man the most intense two minutes of my life.
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