Sputnik stylist.

Ten Stylists couldn’t reframe portraits 

of a shuttle landing  any better 

the damage Of a door steeped in soapbox story

A vine became a turquoise sea hotter Than 

a hot rod making record time 

to rewired clock. 

Hits are a six that left the ground

there’s a bet in the interchange Regency city.

that the of eight diamonds were nine

buried in a deserted line 

of a silent movie on a numbered ship

Sevens are imported automobiles 

racing around a newly built comic stripped for

Tea served on paperless planes.
Missing being in candid stripes to dye your hair 

eights Belles ringing on trees 

mirror ball sailing from the scene 

reduced to rubble into three

A unfinished story at nine 

crackle and props the speed of light 

Making it out of a frozen sound.
A radio Callers name now Blanked out 

on the editorials say so you all Cheated death  

a relayed call from Sputnik one 

Rehearsal escape from the door 

Magnet chain set for a repetitive year.
Righting what’s left of a weighted Cerebral hemisphere

angry Letter exchange late on the tiles at night

As the signs revolve around a recreationist 

And a hole made in the rose hip sky.
As we strive to fill those big lizard little lizard boot prints 

that did it all before a orbital atmospheric entry

stretching out across a new loom 

Laying  your diamond cards out on a table.

Dialing A Dialing U Dialing S Dialing T Dialing E Dialing N

If your Jane I won’t reply they didn’t have phones then.

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