With every rallentando I feel cleaner, more nondenominational than ever.
Now a little drunk I look up at elm crocuses fighting odor, climbing a trunk.
Its heirs apparently. I feel cleaner with you. Clearer as in noble gas and flux. I do.
Molecules will sue

You — they’ll sue us both for our goals and coral glow —
What a snit! Apart from love I am ashamed now
Breaking up with you feels like getting retested for flu ...
You and I in slow, we hope, radon decay
Torched with prayer. Or thereabouts.