• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 10
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I am api

Once I wore Breton on a boat,
can't do water now, flat screen
nothing to hang a bikini on.

A shire horse in Norfolk owns
my shoe collection, my toes are buried
in the cathedral of a mole.

I gnaw with gravestone fragments
while placing a perfect pout on Mt Everest,
grow shadows in the desert.

I cool hot wired fingers in a politician's pond
then pop a camel in his duck house.

Photoshopping all day, I might paint me
a loin cloth lover later for a little light
air brushing.

I follow 2,000, some follow me.