Oh Marshall, you got it all screwed up this time,

like with her intravenous rhetoric she could squelch her way

out of an adult diaper cyclone so clean you could

basically eat off her, but don’t think of it as emerging,

she, ah, ain’t exactly Botticelli’s Venus, man,

cool is the most non-committal of the temperatures

is what I mean to say, and where’s the fun if she

ain’t going to put that pretty neck on the slab under

the pendulum, she’s a textbook about rocks, she’s

a spiny ball of porcupine, but for all that prickly safety

she, like, doesn’t move, man, and you can just sit there

impaled and talk shit about the mainstream and its many

tributaries while you bleed out, but it will always sound

like stasis to me, like air bubbles in amniotic fluid,

and if you stay, uh, fetal like that man, well fuck, maybe

you can reverse engineer yourself back down to a single

cell, something I’ll need a microscope and blinders to see.