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Desmond Says to Molly, Mesmond Says to Dolly, Yeehaw
by Christin Call

What is the significance of the colour of their heads and hands?
Well, none really. It's just mellifluous nonsense.
--scholar on The Dong with a Luminous Nose

linner sinner sunch dunch
outcomes—merely combos of ratio ker-plunk
and though I like your face     Transformer
and your jolly jaundice           Snoqualm
there ain't a fook'n hell'd get me the cashprize lot

as the marketplace marrow
heads a 5,000,000,000 penny toss
what chance it was in the fasting gap of night
the ballet troupes folded obladi
the lights of QWEST Field morphed red obladi
the affluent put in molded plaster walls
while the lady n' I ran askiff the interbay docks olé

should we (and as I say this I begin to sing)
speak Salish to him, the moon
birthed in this valley's canal
where the mountain falls up to a point

he jests           he hides           he pouts           disappears
Changer           we call him
and toast the rosie another round

oblada to Ballard's Ukrainian revival
oblada to the Lenin statue brooding Fremont
oblada to the homeless couple weilding cardboard sign
and cranes that rotate demolition like carnival rides

I took the trolley through the armatures
placental thickening of boxcars stacked by hundreds
umbilical viaduct tom-peeping warehouse attics

and give it 50/50 I genotype
presto ala-kazaam
emerge a woman, same as the city
hocus pocus grand slam

industrial plumes the feathers to her hat touché
lit window towers the glistening of eyes dewy
with 20 karats on the finger ka-ching

and my laugh a pretty moonface laugh
lets Molly give me head
to happy ever never rafters
where hanging we’re still singing
ife loes gon, gife oes lon, life goes on
brah