THE RUBBER QUESTION

She tells Dr. Eldorado isn't vulcanizing easier
on the escalator shouldn't the Captain's footprint
lie above Mobile across her eyebrow.

And isn't where beaver board switches with
the exit ramp a gap the pills could fall through
sailing off the edge of his jagged bloodline

And did he know a living thing in two decades wedged
between a rock and a hard on changing stations at
ninety miles per Paxil up for reelection

in the Brazil nut race against a comer like the Captain
you don't just take an aspirin to the promenade
and dance to Erector Set Lagoon for a wig job.

She tells him isn't wellness fun for kamikazes a
turn on the autoclave the bean dip favorite racing
for the door ahead of Quivers the giant migraine

What she wonders isn't this the sister ship the last
resort for Shriners low over Appomattox thinking isn't
everything just the tip of trouble in the moonlight

just the basement bargaining the square dance for
spare change won't get you past the Bike Pound
in a flat bed tucked in edgewise ready for Captain Midnight.


THE RABBIT QUESTION

Quenching his bobolink before the egg hunt lasted
through the leg of lamb, the resurrection, and the
bond spiel orphans chasing

chocolate bunnies she could guess his
campaign promise to the corporals hiding
in the lamps, the cushions, the poor excuses

last for days sometimes would show up like
a charity event dumped on Easter orphans called
him Captain Rabbit with his broom and whiskey

sweeping eggs is curling for maniacs they told her
at Barometer Lutheran unscrew his light bulb wattage
stains Resolve and turns it blue all over the bed sheets

on the Berber orphans eating chocolate Jesuses
the way a ghost platoon calls him in the middle of the road
goes right over her head bargaining with Sherman trade

your baskets for some live oaks dancing with McClellan orphans
blowing down wind the portico awash in tin foil just doesn't get
small members' day at the Rebel Yell "ordained to begrudge"

tattooed on her eye lid you could blow your fuses through a
sugar chicken and hit the running bored to death the Captain
wouldn't over hang around to gather up the rattles.


THE MUSTARD  QUESTION                                                                                                   

The Natchez Herbal Breastwork folds you over
under heavy celery mud they bake your mold gets
stored in shape detention Western salts for steamers

with a naval telephone and Captain Quizzical a mash or two
sheets to his blister wrap around the old flotilla game. So Glory
heavens to rosemary rubdown at the platinum ileum

alignment Sonya Hydro-Sky don't kid around what's
surfaced gets a slammer oh that certain something takes my
breasts away don't kindle after numbers out the parsley

bath oil roll over "isn't there a Walsenburg?" I ask her
Sonya binding basil with two cups Prestone in colloidal

for our plantar splinter group.  Roll over Rover isn't
fetching both my cellulites are low "hush up wild mustard"
pestle fuming works hot if you work it from the salad

affirmation vestibule where no man "goes to show you
honey" next potato isn't just a game for cheated hair
essential oil depletion wigs oh no the Barbizon

the dorsal precious blend of enzyme colors in
the dream vacation saffron for a flex of soul
emerald all out for the spinal wing command. 

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