Brain Rain Always Drifts into the Gutter

My tableside window

Is my window to contemplation.

See,                                                                 

It’s a metaphor²  squared

Square window.

Now, an intangible entendre.

 

And outside

Birds break

Dance under

Photonless

Strobes that

Cut their

Movements

Into choppy

Here ‘n there.

 

They dance on square

Sidewalks

Where squares

(like myself)

Drag their feet toward

Lassoed destinations.

 

Where mists of noiseless nicotine

Repel like Red Seas

from the squareground sidewalk:

Dragging squares

While dragging squares.

 

And it hasn’t rained,

And the ground is covered

With ass hair

And leafy dingleberries.

 

And all I can think about

Is thinking about

Thinking,

Which is like

Masturbating

To pictures of yourself

And never getting-off:

Epistemology pornography.

 

And I use a colon

To push extra bits

Of mental manure

Onto this porcelain-white page-potty.