soaking up jesus face
last night there was a killer on the loose in frisco.
you held your coif aloof from the headboard
using a neck pillow.
the crowd only loves you for itself, veronica,
i said, but you didn't answer.
the mag's pages made a loose flap of sound.
a peeling unicorn decal at the edge of the mirror
was like a shadow in my pants.
a ring of crumbs about the skeleton on the sideboard
next to the plate of gherkins.
your negligee was flimsy. that killer, on the loose in
frisco. there was nothing about you i didn't
want, nothing about you i
liked,
veronica.
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