Rrose Selavy was my Lover

more spirits than the west
this hunting party of happy hour
crosses peaceless atlantic in rusty tin
parts at the house of worship
where war is a spoken contract
full of household habits
here with jack & jill
nude descends an ambulance
ready to pack it all in
old french men to divine with
atlases full of financial forecasts
that’s the problem of the bruise
my photo with wrench in hand
doesn’t make me a mechanic