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too much beer
is like a body floating in water
face down over a book of japanese prints
where the mantis preens his geometry
in the jaws of a lover’s labia
only to have a real woman
awaken him
stabbing his back with an umbrella
and a taxi fare
tomorrow you and her fallen eyelash
with have it out in the ring
but at the moment
she just wants to fondle
stiffit suck and flee

now too much beer
is like floating face up
snapping constellations
into a consciousness
construction kit

when the angel
passes descends
lets you momentarily rifle her robes
for hidden treasures

until the world shows up
demanding ransom

and i check my bed for
the masticated roses
of love

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