sleeping patron of the arts

cold as knives inside that do not curl
obversely taking natural tokens in
medicine cabinets with bulletproof vests

doctoring the lawn with Sabine’s Gulls
like a northern outpost of remote condensation
teeming with allegory of a story of one

keeping loose change for their late night
curtain magazines frosted at Melville Bay
only tortured for your insomnia refreshment