She
broke the icecream sammiches in two
and
set them caddywampus in a monkey
bowl:
a dish in institutional slang or jargon,
can
hold oh say three quarters of a pear
or
peach, with juice a brimming nigh the brim,
because
this juice is corn starch mostly, strikes
and
sates the sweet-tooth smartly and the tongue
alarms
with viscous goodness cuz, cuz that's
like
that synthetic interlude that Jonesy
plays
in All my Love, that syrupy beauty
Frank
wld detest no doubt, pray we avoid it,
but
Frank frankly, there was a dryness there,
an
absence, no titshaped saline drip dribbles
as
cometh say from some solo piano
of
Chopin, Beethoven, when to Frank we hearken.
Still,
skies brighten, not darken.
