-CHILD'S PLAY-
tickle that pistol
on the steel bruise
and float that daisy
chain to the workers field
and crawl into the thrashers
chamber to dismantle the job
and slip a fingernail under the spinning
blade to see what happens when the wheels
like games make wired tops and electrocution sex
toys, epileptic BB's, hatchet rosaries, guillotine tumbleweeds,
fighting white radiator intercourse, magic vomit laughter sounds of bright glass
shards in chocolate shakes, storybooks springing forward circular magnifying spectacles
to view transsexual animals with bouncy balls and jacks, scotch fueled hopscotch, syphilis needle pogo stick
races, toe grinders and anus fryers to distill the doggy tails and frilly pacifiers; to till it into speed, inject it and feel core molten squish
through the baby fat, in birthday suits, grimacing with cheeks flushed; unexplained puncture holes in the breast will fountain thousands of silver threads
to the delight of all the other laughing
children simultaneously
losing their
bowels.
travis sehorn
