I'm sitting in a room with K-9 dogs.

One more ugly person in the world.

A mother has claimed she's not my queen.

The lobe of an ear costs ten-weeks' paychecks.

Two hippies and a faggot.

Useless questions eloquently posed.

A posse cannot but what it seems.

One more pair of jeans with a hole in it.

An extension cord hanging from the ceiling.

A cellist stoops to take a bow.

His cropped skull has no scars to mar it.

Although his nose has just been punched.

I drank two beers and ate a pretzel.

Two Mozarts flank me on both sides.

Across the room is the Dalai Lama.

His immaculate head has been spit shined.

How many more times must I say this.

Nowhere but here can it matter.