Variations Alligator Wine
Your umbrella, in a pinch, rebrands
into precincts. Pitted against a dud
Zippo, it does what we can’t dabble
in, kills time long since passed. A bar-
napkinned number you slip me, dressed
down. Like a madman, like the Pet Shop
Boys said, kicking in chairs & knocking
down. Your sardine tin opens from both
ends. Pompadour gesture—your status quo.
An umbrella of metal hangs out over meat.
In a pinch, you backpedal. Set Google
Alerts to think on old friends. How they
nightcap & loogie, & bore to tears. Contra-
indicate for slate-gray onions. I pick you up
in a signal-lighting minivan, round the corner
from where you won’t say. What’s long gone
is going through a phase. I’ve put a little
something in the downpour. Say when.