Thomas Fink


GOAD 21

Meek horizons               reek. The broom bristles at a vegan chain
   smoker whose            sappy sapience rides no farther than word 
      of  a  buxom          anorexic   cheerleader         
       child.  More’s         gleaned with sound 
      off. How must          it   sap  you,  if 
     noticed, to be              the  one   from 
    whom  party                  goers  galore are 
     consistently                   “rescued”? Before 
      Sugar Ray’s                      tutelage, I’d  slap 
       instead of belt.              Your  basic  utility 
         (to me): subatomic. Cruel to announce? 
            Bootstrapping   is  not   impossible, 
               even for you.  Crueler to keep
                     that   cocoon   intact.

 
 
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