I once knew a girl who tried to sing with the voices of the two Js.
Janis Joplin & Joanna Newsom after a three day bender of
deriving rhymes to alcoholic patcholi scented beats,
distilled into a cup of exurban folk blues.
She roller skated through the pages of her book of days.
Down unnamed streets, dealing out impulsive cards
to which her friends raised selfish stares
and called her bluff of love.
She placed her bets with the cards marked cheap thrills
A smart man named tasty chard knew the fake ante
To her only one thing was real on the roulette of rules.
A girl with a David Lynch tattoo says he is her film beau.
A red great coat in a castle of mush and ice.
Once she beat my taut tummy like a ten foot sacrificial drum.
in a room where pachengas made us linger.
I laughed like a daimon sleeping in the Iroko tree's leaves.
All this was stencilled in the year two thousand and three.
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