Octane Velour

Pattern me velour on the linoleum slide,
stir the drink with an Evinrude bride,
choppy and nauseous
from a burger beyond its age.
High on the 2-cycle and dreamin’ for a chain,
runnin’ the rubber in a circuit zombie parade;
this ain’t your mama’s lemonade.

Pour me octane on candy rocket rides,
drinkin’ gasoline off the minister’s pride,
hot tar and nitrous
from fizz poppin’ on a 4-speed sprocket.
Green lights flashin’ ‘cross puddle moons in asphalt;
Flattenin’ out a ken doll with a dali lama tire;
this ain’t kansas in a tent revival fire.

Haze me hexadecimal on an endorphin glide,
rainin’ benzene and wheeties in an afterglow tide,
milk white and sunken
from gravity’s little grin.
Coma crawlin’ fins callin’ out the name,
Sandy, Sandy, Sandra Dee’s head is back in town;
this ain’t dinner ’round daddy’s sparse crown.

Melt me Teflon on vanity’s vinyl wide,
floatin’ on a donut in a god’s pesticide,
gossamer green and silicone soup
from leapin’ ten toes over pope dynamo.
Information alienation throwin’ Sartre’s bones,
metamorphin’ monkey skull dissolvin’ lovers numb;
welcome to my gear head is what it’s become.

Ink me paisley on a recursive hide,
walkin’ on eight ’round flowers dried,
saturn blue and karma
from a rhumba in an acetate rain.
Postmodern grins over a burnin’ pool of Barbie,
ping a double helix in a circus ring at ten;
this is entropy, fractal glass, amen.

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