No Dental Dam

a headquest hike downhill without
knees or graded dirt the loudness
of a cracked rib and branch tumble
where chips stack and cards go back
to the shoe to shuffle to gamble air
whatelse but a languishing model
cacophone cracker soused on couch
in stutter with dead definite
sediment and your joyous louse
has every word spoken on a thimble
but a droop foundation under house
I can feel my effort falling short
failing by light of the dragoons 
Valley Kings swirling dormancy 
the puissant utterance of dearth
chimera songs in the punk vein
the dirty tongue of verisimilitude 
let's walk...
sorry, this town prides itself
on every brick building as brothel
in some history no one lived in
no one alive today anyway
and all the windows produced
jumpers what delicious thrillers
sad sex workers in corsets
having used their single bullet
on the bedroom door that night
afraid to unslide the deadbolt
too scared to break the bodice 
and crush the cagey bustle 
maybe we love history's hookers
as we love fantasy's catharsis 
we can go under the trainbridge
or over the tracks but not thru
never across the private yard
of billions to be kept coming
and then antiques start drawing
changing displays but always
showing and wanting window
dressings and dustings and sales
to do the same routine uphill
in the overlook of thankfully
the floor of the valley stays put
sliding down the weather road
in summer snow and chaff
the thresher husking winnowing 
and detassling a cooler-full
of breaktime corn shucking
either way the brickroad sinks
the alley is guttural prim
the princess-pants walks fashion
in spandex and leashes meekly
what a paint job they'll say
what a fine cobbled fantasy
before the grace of foothillsnow
goes obscured trails cur-caked
what a commitment to art
what a slovenly excuse to make
oh chanticleer quiet and cold
can you give a brother a break
and wake the city I impart
for the longest breath hold?