Gianni sprayed Barbasol along my shin.
The blade was ready and made
by Bic. Blood dripped onto a glossy
Scarface poster.
Eyes hiked my dress up further and
shaved me. The cauldron
at the stove boiled.
Lobsters ran in my stockings. Smiles
stopped the red traffic
with poking fingers, sweat
cooled their faces.
Dehydration. Blue flames under
the steaming pot. Gashes
add 1, 2, 3. A land of 1,000 dances.
Brunette shavings snapped in half.
The smaller hairs fell through
the strainer. Faces fed me. Legs
were leechcraft. Gianni
washed my head with Dawn.