Our gaudy corner of the world-
prisms on all sides, help
yourself now-
Remember: Gini and her painted stars
the beautiful boys, torn overalls
lured to the bed, say
if you come over here, you can see
the universe.
Blue on white,
paint on plaster, box it up and
everything's for sale,
black on blue, now it blurs
and is sold in this jar,
no magic.

Cross the country on a dashboard
to taste
pasta and wines
and the clothes of conversation.
All connected by a breezeway
(Patrons move between
talking of magazines)
Witness fifteen ways to change
your life, sorrows locked
in the crystal and you,

Gini-girl of my heart,
sling your borrowed self across
the display cases and
remember-
on this highway, rotten to the end,
no matter how smooth, drive by

and forget those sleeping constellations.