the cards flicker
in your hand
like the wing beats
of a small bird
in a cloudless land
the afternoon
is a full body
kiss
a spiritual
brazilian
passing traffic
sounds like paper
being torn
at high altitude
then you deal
see the stars
and the sun
with the photoshopped
NASA images
behind them
and the queen
and the king
and the jack
jacking off
behind them
always
a double
entendre
a duet
for dead men
now opera
I was tempted
to say…
never mind
the rest of the
cards
are falling like flies
while I leave
before the silence
comes