Remember our mechanic     death by heretic   sex smell at the traintrack and it never paid? The fitting room kidded    a black booth     a hoarse hip   red shoes? A man named Thane followed     as we power-walked   never allowed    to be as loud as we trained      and then no sun left      the baby dressed as Jason      tared at the rain. Getting our name out        is never wasteful   I’m a bad rider       and your black … Continue reading “Two Bird Control Center” by Jessie Janeshek