bites or grip,
the skin of my palm,
the skin of my poems.
I am confused my by favorite flavor,
the questions it asks,
the way of its wayward dealing of me.
starving or dermatologist,
Victor Gruen would be proud,
somehow.
yes, she says
in a basic text message,
no, I say, that's my question.
is this tape?
are we all junk?
I high five your grip.