Crinkled fabric of the fallen.
We ballers leap the lawless tenement.
Flawless swoosh and a gush push gushing.
Ratiocination squealing a giddy triumph.
What next. I swallow text
after text until nausea.
Then a pause in the room.
A boom in the bliss. Somebody said
there’d be more than this.
I should’ve known better
than to butter her rump.
‘Tis a glitch. A new itch to scratch.