Felix Culpa

there was harmony in the music,

there was harmony in the behavior

said you’re subtly sweet, today, someone

questionably cracked the corner of a tv,

eli manning didn’t like me, but futbol

calls one’s name like sherry baby call

that valli girl love, meant to date folks

born in the 80s or 90s, year of metal

dragoness walks on without fiery

breadth, icebreaks malaise to

nothing,

(pace for days, 7 straight),

kimmy, is a margin call rel-

ient k, call it magmamaking,

straight for blonde euro-

pean: fernando torres, may-

be going platinum is the way

this time around,

tell me of yourself (we met

at a gas station, espied by

Ali), casting judgment as-

ide, what’s your calling out-

side courting one night like

CIA dyke agent, question-

ing leaves wrought by

sunstorm, heaven spelled

backwards helped one

with room service out

of department functions,

more than cheesecake

factory checked out like

[?] clancy at the muse-

um of science and indus-

try, missed like charlie—k,

yearning peachy mind-

ful labor, queer love

ultimatum Tiff’s back-

street white vest, en

oneshot run out the

door soliloquy, at least

Sam gave a funk-

adelic heartstring

strung by arch-

angel Aussie;

jealous or just

years lost, un-

tarnished, mak-

ing love by lust,

what is the

difference:

illusory fricti-

on, ever illus-

ory, as spell-

bound by

absentee

P[s]alm[s], mirror

slightly fitvine, told him once that

getting lost in indecision warmly

accepts getting up to dawn,

skipped botanical garden

for chipotle back then, slicked

back raven mane Romania

chique, you look great as

always, who needs spray,

mindscape espies med-

usa in a turtleneck, finds

her more stunning, would

rather be her hammock

than browse shitend

emails, unsolic-

ited—“not a full

day if i don’t

piss you off once”

“that’s not nice,”

am i out of fields

or is broken gps

driving one in

circles, corros-

ive circumstant-

ialist to one’s own

bane, investment

addict chose pinot

over indi, watched

his South Asian

toes breathe by

Pangaea playing

lotto, who smiled

at me, i love you,

[hope] you’re winning,

double dose that apa-

thy, call me babe as

your arm nook buries

one’s face, helps me

breathe to know