We found it crying at the deep end of the pool: Its tears float up, oily.
Neon lights, road-markings, cat’s eyes...they died beached on the traffic island.
Sickly perfume filled
the sidewalk. The older
Framboassi gets, the redder
their hands get, too.
Loves to stare at printed pictures. They suck out the saturation, leaving only a dull blue behind.
Their feelings are lukewarm. Small children tell more lies when Chaudemii comes back around the town.
Did they put this here recently? A thick magenta paste exudes when we drive over, slow. That’s the only thing that makes them happy.
Is this the perfect place you dreamt of, you ask yourself? It never is. Nowhere you go ever will be.
Though they have no limbs, punches are thrown more often when Bourdyeauxxi is nearby. Every tooth knocked out ends up inside it, floating in alcohol.
Clawless, it cannot hurt by force alone. But its influence seems amplified by wireless devices...