"Deep Denim" [by Star Black]

We both probably own too much property.
We could shed some snow. The windowpanes
are short of breath. Girls with long braids
who steal souls have left the night shift

and the seagull tavern’s dartboard is bereft;
the happy hour is empty, like on-tap dread. We
need more names for answers we can’t give,
for abstract uncertainty. The lagoon is

in a telephone booth we no longer use
it used to be too fat to fit but an all-around
slendering has set in, a slendering that drips.
I’ve had enough of uncollectible trinkets

that make me frantically unwed. Society
has pierced my ears and the latitudes are now
incorporated, like three-piece clouds. Vistas are
musty or too loud; you don’t wear a suit?

-- Star Black