outside temple xxx

to the left to the right

the usher’s torch illuminates slouching

analog souls
stuck like brittle on modern ribs

last triple x in captivity nets small brigade

of self-inseminators 
breach the crowded boulevard

chagrinned

sky transcends infinite distance

and the soil gently fellates a nutty little seed

underneath the asphalt

leisure suit gods lounge on high

debung barrels

of profane and propane

spoiling for America’s next celebrity blow job