In the breath-hold that is the I-5
I could go for some chocolate mousse
A glowing cone to make a new star
barely luminous scar, a pansy-way
men on bulls, men IN bulls
men inside trucks–trucks light up!
glow cone–tailights are a truck’s manicure.
what is a truck’s vibrator?
The prostitute is the mechanic.
Men eat rocks in history.
Like penises all trucks are different.
A truck stop and an ocean went on a date.
Hook the bitch she she she
sunshine could colloid something outta me
didn’t melt me totally, I still can rise
like a glowing skull over the gear-stick trucker gnaw, a nipple
jerked a nipple a nipple licked over and over, soft still pharmacist aligner
pregnant pharmacist alien dog-eyed
My dog is a vegetarian
My bench keeps me warm Ketchup gun of LA Healing chrome of LA Salty ponytails of LA Dirty niece whores of LA Crooked radioactive fences of LA 24 hour windows of LA The palm trees aren’t so sure they are kind of staggering leaning Uncircumcised shoes Uncircumcised sluts LA
We got married in a store
The perfumed past, the garden, It’s all gunning still We are still kissing We are still sneaking into the club I am still stud production power Everything we call ‘civilization’ is an attempt, futile, at ordering pain and desire, for a moment I understand all but then it smokes up back into nothing Animals in the fire, for dinner The novelty of carbonation the innovation of her tits Think different
I devolve your mouth
I dedicate my life to discovering its origin
In the car
Locked in a jail cell we have to lick our way out
naturally it takes years
The sky was gunned-up with stars
generally a woman will prefer to vomit in a pizza box than in nothing at all
Dia Felix is a writer and filmmaker whose areas of intrigue and expertise include romantic pratfalls, spiritual totality, and celebrity obsession. Her first novel, Nochita, is forthcoming from City Lights/Sister Spit.