Written As Written

Bathe in milk and bleach, glue your eyebrows to your tail. Shave, repeat.
Vacuum up the nails and wait for the taxi man-
outside of the motel to call your name in whisper... "Alberta..."
Your Wrinkled little withered hands open the wicker berry basket, to
find only another basket, within another basket, within another basket.
20 minutes later, Robin's egg waits patiently on the balcony overlooking the
sea, the tide of taxi cabs blinking flashers; endlessly abyssal.
Smooth, perfect, waiting to be asked when the sun will rise
again, when your extended stay will end,
No vacancy, no shame, no questions remained.