By Ryan Francis Kelly

All Rights Reserved.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
This bowling alley, it pukes & rallies. Bum drum machines recording
numbers in rolling tallies. Dilly dallies & silly fallacies. Oh please, they all
tease. Get over your own petty tragedy.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
I’m the king igit clown, wearing the hell out of my coney dunce’s crown.
Another buzz-off putz with a frumpy frown, a spasmodic flounder in the
sound. But you, you astound this klutz. You all at once come into my view
from a dusty shroud, with the smooth strut of your approach.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
Pin action in the background, fast crowds whizzing past in the shadows.
But you catch traction in slow motion, & glide through the loud commo-
tion in tiny fractions.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
Chatter chatter chatter. Banal conversations in squeals & clatter. But you
rather, you matter. You scatter my brain & slide with graceful rhythm
down the lane. You are precision. You give me a hundred envisions before
a vivid tunnel vision. You shatter my indecision & make me question this
cynical drifting.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
Cackle guffaw cackle. These people & their bawdy laughter. They cannot
distract me from your body’s rapture. You’re a master. Your blue & red
shoes have crafted a path through their blotto blather.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
You bend & lean at the hip, a little dip before a kick & flip of your wrist.
A wiggle & tip, & then a near slip. It’s pivotal, it’s bliss. You’ve put me in
fits. I wish–no I dream–to be the seams in your jeans, tightly gripping
that cinnamon cream. To be the weight of that ball, to see myself swing
pendulum with your reflection in the polished sheen. Your release & twirl.
The way your sleek curve unfurls my nerves.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
You’re apt to pick up that spare. You’re stacked & thick & got stuffed love
to share. A truly packed derriere. Nothing half-ass about what you have
back there. I’m damn close to trapped, to attack, to flat-out attached. I let
out a gasp at the near flash of crack.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
You kneel & clasp your hands in prayer. Even from behind, I can tell you
care. The ball slaps & skips on the slick varnish, nicking the pin into its
dim little lair. You clap & put your hands in the air. Now that I’ve met your
back from god knows where, I’m sick over what will happen when I meet
your stare.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
Your ball’s in the conveyor. A no-brainer. I need a shot of your flavor,
straight with no chaser. Because I can’t just savor. I’m a salivator. I’m some-
thing abject. Behavior all fricked & fracked & frecked. You have beckoned
the crick of my neck. You are heaven sent. Oh, to be that cooling air vent.
To waft the breath of your scent. To dry the damp clammy balm on your
open palms.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
I must calm this pitt-putter & think of something hip to utter. Spit game,
but be sure not to sputter. There must be a reason for the flutter, for my
dark heart that revs like a rudder. You seem to explain why I suffer, why
my brain is so cluttered. I want to kick off these rubber soles, & let my fin-
gers fill your holes. I hope that you smother, & that you tear asunder be-
neath the covers. But if nothing other, I hope we can still find one another.
Please: I need to believe one day we’ll wash out from the gutter. I need to
believe we can still find lovers during this storm of stubborn thunder.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm clash.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hummmmmmm rattle.

Ryan Francis Kelly often wishes he were the Cheshire Cat, so that he could disappear and leave behind nothing but his floating grin. You can find him catwalking between accessible and askew.