Sits in his rain scented square.
He kicks up dust with his boot heels.
I watch the zigzagging contrails slice up the dark, blue sky with growing alarm.
My gypsy grandmother pokes through the rear passenger window.
Fiery nuptials in a throw.
The look in his eye suggests that he is on to me.
Kim Kardashian’s DeLorean skims over the frosted waves.
I catch her eye, but then she looks away.
Be still, and she will kiss you.
I am seated beside a dictator in a diaper.