Before an Unexpected Camel Race

One street, First for
bars, old speakeasies - stuck
thumb prints in modernity's
Rust lipped bilge-boxes.

   Flappers burst into
   just as fast
   fleeting from world
   an apparition that
   presides once-in-awhile
   in a now
   come to excite this

Late night

sophisticates its inbred
amid negative
ion airlets (snuck
from end of First)
which möbius-moth
their way
through every doorway's
chasm-ic Pulse.

For every chasm we
more drink, glasses set
above sticky waves which
emerge from
once smooth tabletops.
        Three of us and
        a pleasant addition plays
        his always-plied guitar.

the Embodied apparition,
moments before
her tears,
opened everyman's pure
   ambiance Twists on itself
        her lost keys, then humor
        cleave world at, First.
        ...taking solidity it
        Surrounds the flight of
   Flapper caught in full burst,
        we talk Patience, the Moment,
and Liquids working us,
address downstreet
ions. Happily,
our movements
mandate motion.

At the end (almost
like growths from
wronged ground,
six camels pervert
their necks skyward.
Five in "don't touch" distance,
one near.

the one near, we pet.
his damp bulbs
watching, deign us kind
but uncertain.
   He foams gurgles-
but we know nothing
about camels.

She thinks he's sick
but says he's sweet.
   moments recess in ambiance.
-the vehicle needs
a locksmith.

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