My ***

My ***

Waits for me

Like a mongrel waits

Downwind on a tight rope leash

My ***

Is a fragile acrobat

Sometimes I'm a novocaine shot

Sometimes I'm an Automat

My ***

Is often solo

Sometimes it short circuits then

Sometimes it's a golden glow

My ***

Is invested in

Suburban photographs

Skyscraper shadows on a car crash overpass

My ***

Is savage, tender

It wears no future faces

Owns just random gender

My ***

Has a wanting wardrobe

I still explore

Of all the bodies I knew

And those I want to know

My ***

Is a spark of electro-flesh

Leased from the tick of time

And geared for synchromesh

My ***

Is an image lost in faded films

A neon outline on a high-rise overspill

My ***

My ***