Like showgirls on a night train
Or a ranting actress in an indifferent play
Chaos has come the Queen of the Mayhem
I’m having a brainstorm, pet she says
As the Monkeyshine Room falls
Into beautiful lines about her quickly
Shading from quirky to genuinely disordered
A kind of ripple flowing over her fixed and
Terrible regard different from and cognate with
Her limp green chiffon white enamel and pearls
Stuffed into some extremely skinny jeans consuming
This whole instant impulse not accident
A sudden decision from the wrong lane
Trying to get property of a non-object fused
Into a new union a languid leathery substance
With a strange gem like sparkle both endearing
And corrupt having electromagnetic implications
And a mounting attraction that I may one day rue