It's like being underwater alone –
no fish, no waves, no mermaids, no urchins,
no salty bubbles, no vision of bone,
just exoskeletons and cartilage fins:
There's low audibility here; I hear
in gyroscope, rotating like one-armed men
that synchronize swim off the yacht club pier,
menacingly manly – Old Speckled Hen
Aftertaste, aftermath of the carnage –
my mermen ballerwinos punch too hard,
and their lefthand uppercuts from that age
when men fought like men and ate bread with lard:
Fuck these margarine fairies of today;
If I could hear this vibe, I'd turn away.

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