La Boheme   class signifiers at intermission




she sucks the juice of grapefruit over the kitchen sink




dozing off in tassel rue
the emptiness
of sin




scent of crushed sage through the loophole in the cinder block wall




the evaporating puddle I'm in




by now he's entering the diamond-mansion heart of Saint Teresa




the liquid mercury nail heads on the gray planks at sunset




the fallen arches of the Donegal mussel catcher




sheltering in place on a hairpin of jade




oatmeal cookies for the unsung genius in plumbing supply




the skinflint's only Latin phrase





six realms and I'm dragging my ass in this one




imprisoned by his attention to the insignificant




in physics, he would entertain no more questions about hula dancers in outer space




why do I have to hear about how miserable you would've been




the accuracy of the mad