the tug of your otherness
vacillates between my ears,
your deadpan hypnosis
an invisible cloak
burrito-wrapping
my smiley-faced lulled mirror
reflecting a Disneyesque set of measured volleys
echoing random and contrived prompts,
your tin pan deadpan hi-dee-ho
like some twisted aphrodisiac craving for
more memorable meta moments
“deadpan is my default setting. it works.”
ode to Gemini
Published
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