The oxygen lied. She passed it. She didn’t.
His laughter lied. She passed it. She needn’t.
His eyes soiled. She passed it. She got up. C.
N.G. recoiled. Martyrs didn’t fare that low.
Take it or leave it, the body volte-face.
Agreed. Streets are puberty. Buffet Now.
Anger later. Address: A paper town,
Only through eavesdrops. Watchdogs let In. Cars
Lead away. Invites are synonyms.
Furniture are antonyms.Men are men.
Women are revered. Pop goes saliva.
Brains are bonnets. Ideals are no drivers.
Stage to sonnets. Trip wears off. Bloo-ming-dales-
Sprout in family gardens. Curves played in-
Struments. Curves undid entire bands. Or so.
Curves burped. Never. Curves were never. Always.
The bar had him standing to scare her. Pool
swallowed entire teenagers. Azad:
Four decades of fakers; Feet were earthquakes.
Lips were fever. Ballroom. Mic: the machete.
NaPoWriMo: Day 7