I like Intimate Criminals

you thought this was cinco de mayo
thin-veiled lemons in little water
under rubric of fake volumes
fill lists for dissatisfied citizenry
get out of my family language
searched in electronic generations
for hard-won libraries of taxonomy
it was never proven to be hoax
this is skin touched with finality
in the savagery of cried myth
since memory is empty of true names
after we came in and dropped coin
loudly drowned in party atmospheres
suddenly saturday to hold your ears tight