Where is the laundry fuzz?
The laundry fuzz ends up on the hall tree, chotchkies and fire, exclaimed unwrapped and relegated. Don’t we get no items that don’t not create in us love. It swims, half drowns. Reflect all the way down the hallways but you never go there, aren’t no doors, only sparkly lights look at. Times you think, sparkly lights is all there is. Other times they just blind.
Where is the sick?
Cat fish people. Fleck off blue cliffs on gone continents, ice froze waves
down below, it’s action. Waves keep roll, boat holds tight in yellow coat.
Waves them stop, boat motor says go. Get to the rocks, start again, got
whole cliffs to climb. All that floppy yellow rubber. Stop boat, stop waves.
Take it off.
Where is the clean air?
Look close at the sock toes. Suck deep and get clean, mucus membranes,
filters black with God. The little things, pores of pores, microfabulous
specks of dimensions not concieved. Good business in there, you want
spotless. Clean sneaks. Don’t respect dirty. Don’t like like the life that gets
all over it, particles blank, blind eternal winks in the great night sky.