II.

as in a gaggle of geese    a flamboyance of flamingoes

a brilliance                    of teeth            as in a cowbell

of collective nouns                    more

they call it tomming tomas don’t call me thomas myth is a mestizo born by a tub of water sprung from the clam fully formed a pearl pried from the mind of zeus inside a rooster pecks a dinosaur which must make me a chicken i shriek

at the armadillo of getting a job in the smallest town of me population one amongst cats poetically speaking plurality doesnt mean unity like the naked woman dancing on the hood of a big rig on 290 people wonder how i got here & i fear because i am

as in a fib of poets

silly out of style the dated mustache of neil degrasse a bob ross afro i will never feel popular enough loved enough ive wished on my own star & made myself a texas not to be messed with been hectored been donned been carried been joshed been jacked asked

to get my shinebox

like a bather sunning poolside history lies on me the moon is half empty the night sky has lice my hustle has been a stone breaking the bad luck of a lake desire the biggest circus flea the blood thirstiest of all ticks the heart