Estampida

As the narwhals
invade my dreams,
and my pants leave,
I only work out my arms
at the LA fitness
because, as the beautiful Dragon says,
I can’t write poems with weak arms.

Neuro-harness my blues
while I make my way into town
for a slight of night,
and then Down to the river,
across the plains
where I restock my munitions
for an evening of boneside attacks.