No Needles, no,

but the prick of surprise at words

leaning on each other like this:

The quantity

of periwinkles

must be drained.

No snorting, no,

except for pleasure

writing tercets, like this:

A small plane

crashed into my yard

and damn, my fence needs fixing.

I take the far booth

at Viand's coffee shop

and write a couplet, like this:

The lion pulls on its leash, attached

to my third toe, the hairless one.

This morning, you are sitting

across from me. My heart clunks,

and chunks at the sight

of your purple tattoo

on the tip

of your aquiline nose.

I run my drumming heart

to Central park

where the lion lies down.

Addicts steal to feed their addiction

I steal like this

"Bury me in Havana.

Let pretty girls

dance on my grave."