Per each seat, vain cities dole out,
for me, Shiva never sent colored letters.
Perms, if gone, try per duty, gentle.
Geosticking moss ills my alto fatigue:
for shimmy divvying pedestals,
winsome sap in Zales prime amore.
Dining a mean fury costs Cree tea.
Seen turning, better not Duracell.
Lash late cogs nests, walking nitrates.
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Each city doled out seats.
She never sent colored letters or
postcards of gentle perms.
Her altitude fatigue stuck like the ill
color of moss. She was a winsome sap
for Cree tea and Zales prime amore in
velvet boxes. Wasps nests seemed filled
with cogs turning in twitching Duracell ekes.
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