A Portrait of Ray

Seems as though you had touched someone/near the heart of the Hun.Those guesses you never examined./while entertaining crowds/luck to be in vogue at half the price./Taming them downtown,crowds hypnotized,/they wonder in an eye blink/if they’re eaters of flesh just like you,/since they already recorded your electric image/shattered teeth of your smile./Tattoo of a death’s head/penned as you shipped out/never looking at it more than twice.You collected silver wrappers/found under bumpers/during your lavish spectacle on the midway.Then,seeing you once more/same place as always/proving you eat flesh/in the blink of an eye.Flesh colored, same as the rouge and powder/of the women who claimed they loved you./Their eyes are red too./So the hand really is quicker than the eye/wary of the number of moves it takes/to give you your scars/blood lettings from the corridor./I’m still rifling through your boxes/slipping past your empty aisles.

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