she brings her tool belt down from the highest coma
the pointiest cloud
drags it down like a parachute from a tree
like all day rain
like wet shoes
she brings the Named ladder down last
wiping crosses from her eyes
blowing knows into the flag
the pointiest dreams
wild slugs on a team
nation: gun
made of money
(pooh and turned honey)
(made of) glut and fuck me
he brings his wet pussy down from ivory towers
like storm rain in a house gutter
cums crashed planes like deployed troops
money shot on afghan land
she brings her ideology by a leash
drags it around like fog
like the lightest mountain (those only at the ‘top’ can climb)
jog harder
lift those sopping wet socks
with holes
you’re all day rain
you’re (shackle-grade) lead shoes
he brings the iron
she brings the toast
they break the hour glass and eat it
like all day lunch
the pointless-est cloud
drags ya down like a fireman from a tree
like all morning shakes
he gets up gun first
works backwards, draws straight lines with two right feet
she dances in crosses and squares

they weave pipe dreams (and bombs) 
in and out of her

he steps on her feet

he makes them smaller and sells them to tourists

they dance for each other

the stage half collapsed

eaten and full of itself
tool belt down
aisle pointless
six black sites with mops Now
get your shoes wet
bring the ladder down
wipe your fee(a)t of muddied dreams
they bring their tool belt and horse down last
the dullest of butter knives
the barely a drizzle (annoying rain(reign) in your face)
the pointiest cloud
you drag it around like someone else’s balloon you found stuck in ‘your’ tree
she congratulates you and hands you summer
he charges you for it and calls it ‘vacation/holiday’
pay with your broken
pocket guitar punching down nails
pick something to climb and eat fruit from
before they both kill themselves
and we realize they never existed
it was just a downpour in a dream
it was just time
blowing kisses into a rag
it was only life 
dragged down like wet toilet paper from a front yard tree

“tool belt down”