my purchase right down the middle of a second
to bury its permanence
sometimes i'll wear a shirt right out the door
by law, pulling its tags for the thrill only
to present them at the register
like a good girl
licking envelopes slowly
has become a corporate thrill, not
because of it's suggestion, but
because it's 2015
and no one fucks
with a wide rule or bids
on the postal service to carry their meaning
it is by custom we sit
in the den with our shoes off and
think almost nothing of the senseless itching at our soles
meditation on il•lic•it, for•bid•den
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