Jon Leon
Machine Talk

Your yellow arm on my torso.

                         Post
                         cards of
                         museum
                         gallery salon

restless lamentation.  hatchets
             husbands new directions.

clock fifty years ago,
could we know of this turmoil.

                         Not to destroy it:
                         minister failure

“Who knew?”  this construct
monument... ill attempts at prosperity

Across the street:

                         little girls,
                         pouty lips,
                         black hair.

             When in
Las Vegas “I love you to death.”  I called.

return to SHAMPOO 21