A Chip For Moccasin Onassis

The Badge Buckled And Swayed Under The Weight Of Naked Eyes,
Plated To The Grill And Heated From The Sit Out By The Curb,
Glinting Like Aquarium Treasure For Snorkel Eels And Coral Humpers,
It Led Its Own Bleeding Blue To The Golfer's Carpet,
At Every Turn And Stoop Spitting Phantom Glow ALong The Beige Walls,
With WhatEver Light Was Left To Luminate Memorys Of A Prom-Queened Babel,
The Lounge Wizards Stepping Closer To The Chance To Chaperone Raw Deals For House Cats,
Catching The Smears By Smudges On The Glass...
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Deftness Left By Righteous Guts,
Never To Dull The Edge Of The Steady Pin,
Keeping Those Little Black Books In Check,
Tricks Of The Tirade To Season And Glaze The Ham,
Brick By Brick... Assumeing That Assumption Be A Walk Through The Aisle,
Through Those Shards That Stick ThemSelves Deep InTo The Fallen InStep's Flesh...
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A Purchaseable Fetish As Any For The Bidding,
To The Grocery List Tacked OnTo ReFridgerator Madness,
With Gophers For GroundHog Days...
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Faberge Snuff Box...Yet, With Cathedral Colossus...
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White Out White Wash Kid Gloved,
The UnLoved Eventually Sift Through Gold Flakes For Proof Of Descent,
Sniffing Sober For Stitches On BaseBalls,
Signing AWay The Enigma And Accepting The Ruddy-Cheeked Charm,
Foot-Long InTo The Batting Average...
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The Wife... Is A Bitch...
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And Life... As A Pitch.