I must have defragmented a boat and inflected an iron
as a lady in yellow walked by rows of sulking mannequins.
Beneath my feet a child watched his mom through water eyes
tare-out a check to a Bloomingdales' crypt, for crocodile boots.
Black birds above my head flooded the burnt out sun
as a girl in a dirty mink pushed a blue stroller with a cat.
Eyes flickered through the herd of neon-magenta bicycle tribes
when maple-syrup memories flushed themselves down exploding avenues,
where the fire-marshal was a hero, the teacher a wizard,
and mirth grappled at our ankles with her wild diaper daze.
That tumescence of poisoned innocence, regurgitates the night,
as my days do somersaults: in charcoal ruins of vanilla.