There’s a narcissist i see staring at the
Revolutionary mirrors
Of gold leaf retrospect talks over a life spent
Believing in Chop sticks and drinking
Confectionary Taurus under Chinese star signs.
The only whispers swapped at tables
the fortunes of the gallons of nine and
Minted high fives.
I’d eat you for breakfast as collectors of coins
Trade interns girls like taxidermy missiles
Smells so fowls that the crises that emanated
where trawlers now Fish the world.
sew the scales of these story’s.
