gas-guzzling 1979 T-Bird with vinyl upholstery & as rusty
my talons Pal grasping a lukewarm
schooner as all archangels do when they're out of work
broke down in a Paleozoic
greasy spoon derailed beside an event horizon
We weren't evil we were more ancient than that than a
Louisiana drugstore which is yellow
incisors grinding tobacco juice into potions
& the King Cobra on tap Pal it spit narcotic
summer stars up & the summer stars glimmered from faces
in lieu of eyes &
I can't say it was her they ogled
Pal when she wandered in mad as a cracked dish a lost
costume pearl she was actually a crescent
moon named Jane that could see the future
What did she see she saw embryos & fried chicken shacks
& an OK used car lot
& nests meteorites kept on smashing
& she said to me You're a mean streak
as she sat there in the midst of blue tongues licking their lips like
pilot lights agog for eggs
She looked like she had some unfinished business with the sky's
blackened redfish
dawn it crawled with big-headed fish the
savage clouds
& me I'm this unshaven
angel swigging eggs & fossil fuels ever since I'd fallen from heaven &
the java Pal was mud dredged
up from the Mississipean epoch crawling with
brachiopods &
quotations from the Book of Enoch & half & half curds &
sugar stirred to wingtips' shoelaces & porifera &
yesterday's jamabalaya
has just now gone black under a cloudburst of fruit flies
buzzing zydeco & as I was saying
Hard-Boiled Prehistoric Breakfast, pg. 2