Hoe (F = ma)

Mean Joe Seaweed she never called me
Sloppy dreadlock mudfish
Like two skates from split to slalom

Not Jenny Haniver
Or some sweet tied in the back apron gal
Whispering Dixie draft list larks and lulls
And not so much between us but butter and steel crackers
An occasional dry Katsuobushi wipe around the eyes

Perchance skate cuisine, one might query?
The race to settle umami
But not a simple bonita or dashi con pelamis
Not Mokpo Poeonyuk (1910-1945)
I assume and associate this with the invasion, but could be wrong

Maidens on shore are illusions
The salty brine that becomes our Yeonpotang is mermaid blood, siren tears, silky serpent-lady sweat
The slither and slide of getting close enough to slough and share slanted shelves

Before getting crazy, know she meant nothing but cartilage
As to avoid bone on bone, is I guess what I am saying
To become so tethered to the very fibers as to offer to become muscle or bone themselves
That kind of viscosity harbors no drag
But in the warm waters of tribology there is no forgiving even the slightest variation in asperities
Spare a lump or legion
But let us not get too far ahead
We can and will discuss rigid bodies on a later date

For now, let us hold our shapes
Firmly aligned to the possibility
that the earth is round,
the horizon continues at the same clip as we,
and that the angels in the math can swim
--
2.8.12

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