what type of information lasts she asked
stuck head down into the lower baffles
denies the heaviness of the cross-current
the sergeant demands of worker ants
are my ideas so seditious she teases
your fantasies are now illegal
and I have to turn you in
the thought police are now always
hungry for the concepts
with fibrous tenement
she blocks your sensation with willies
accumulated through bad intention
bastes your stomach with swirling symbols
olive oil and charcoal
flick of wrists and Gaia-strewn wit
and tongues