gagged girls at a gas station. we’re remembering everything

gagged at the gas station. salt said she is sweeter scrawny; skinning strawberries and backpacking, triple bypass. almost away, patient for the occasional blooms. a back-to-back confessional. yourself and your body, forefinger between the rumbling mountains, soaring like a seven-year-old suffering through summer, peaking at pricey power plays and slave to starvation; a stake-heart, slice right sent left. lying lengthwise, skyscraper aircraft tipping, take it all in, spit it out, listening is rhythmic like rain in rocket fuel. and i'm turning blue, gotten green, gone-gone-gone. all girls, you and me. preserve the pint to wash down the empty well, we’ll tell no one. no sooner soldiers than saints, we are sorrysick. hear us say it to you, over and over. darkening selves spent seated, stripped for saturn’s shadow. not yet existing, so we strive for insanity’s every survival. saturated in smoke, offering itself. spilling out of winter with wretched willingness, sunk words slicing the limelight linoleum, nut-cracking with cinnamon sticks, wishful thinking and a series of broken grunts, guts punched. a punching face full without punctuation to follow, we laugh, look; laughing. nothing to go off, we’re offering the offhand that’s rest, left by a rundown jackrabbit in disguise. i'm unguided in a brilliant turn of events, a phrase turned on the up-side, i'm no longer tied. i'm tying it now, myself by now. round and round.