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Description
Enter patisserie:
A line of nobodies leads
me to my cashier’s right
dimple.

One cookie please.
That’ll be 69 cents.

I fumble for my
wallet, coins jangling
to the tune of Sin
atra love songs &
the cashier winks
at Nobody.

A kaleidoscope of maggots slip
n slide down my glissando guts

A torrent of c r u m b s
hails in my oesophagus.
The cashier autographs his number
on the receipt. My cell phone gets
a boner.

I staple Crayola cocoons
to my forehead & crunch
my saccharine treat.

Several nibbles later I
return to the queue of
idiots that aren’t us &
two whomevers gossip
about Nothing in front
of me & as the cashier
says next, this weather
makes my feet cold.

Pineal butterflies flap their wings
Hurricane Devin demolishes
skyscrapers & anthills &
momandpop
pastry shops

I puke.