Hearts & Bones

no one-armed banned it

I kept weapons…

why not, it’s my constitutional right

–and ya gotta look after your constitution

(with mandatory health care that suits better than fine)

trigger-pullers

that even with the safety on,

can

.point.

push

or

pray,

and when engaged

can bash in

hope chest

(like that swinger Tarzan)

crammed with whimsical and eclectic items

sum of witch

are quite perishable

(rotten waffles)

others

made out of paper mache boulders

(fragile strength and pseudo stone wall)

still others

just black

(surprisingly Goth for a beach blanket bimbo)

incomplete, incalculable equations

I labor over every day,

and these are breakfast choices, too,

–nothing says “good morning” quite like uncertainty, I never say–

and the surfeit spills

into breadbasket I

often use

as a heavy bag

givin’ it the old 1-2 but never 3 because why

do that to myself?

(see:  a-4-mentioned less than 3 reference which X factor is greater )

Y?

near the

bottomless pit

that accommodates my

ground beaters

–uprights

compromised by

beggin’ bones

the

oh-so-tender future veal

I save for dogs that circle back.