A Night on the Corner

I'm thinking about crack. (Is that cocaine?)
Not as a substance but just crack.
The word crack.

The C and the R make a tasty CRRRRR noise that involves me pursing my lips,
that involves me jutting my jaw out slightly,
that involves the closing of my throat.

The soft A makes a refreshing note as I reopen my throat and release the AHHHHH sound.

Finally, it's brought all together with a whip-like noise that the C and the K bring home from a long day of work. A guttural sound that brings the whole mesmerizing word together.

I'm thinking about Crack.

And Fishnets.

Because that's what I picture Crack-Whores in.

Fishnets, chipped nail-polish, and crack.

Fishnets to catch those flopping ivory legs.
To contain them and make sure they don't escape from those threaded bonds.
Scaly and slimy, those swimming calves containing skin, the gastrocemius, the tibia.

Now I'm thinking of Fish Prostitutes.

And it's not a pretty picture...

And for some reason those Halibut Hookers are making me think of Mr. Peanut because he looks like the type of fellow who would hire a Fish Prostitute.
He looks like the type who would take them to a cheap motel with a flickering sign and he would pay them in saltines and used cigarettes.

Then after they make sweet, Peanut, Fish love, they would sweat colors and eat crack cakes.
They would talk about each others mothers and how Mr. Peanut secretly hates top-hats and wishes for a head of hair.
The Fish, named Cinnamon, would tell of her aspirations to become a singer and how her daddy promised that he does love her.

The word mouth is fun to say as well.

Mouths are disgusting. Vessels for bacteria to grow and spawn. A place for them to start a rebellion and turn that orifice into home base for infection.
We kiss with our mouths.



Happy Sunday