My Torso

Inside, winking, there lives a very spry bone. Doctors notice it as immediate and chronically weathered. Neighbors feign sympathy, though they truly want freedom too. Inside freedom, solidarity echoes its pathetic heart out of Northern Canada. Here, bicycles arrive weightlessly without wheels or bells or riders. Last person to pedal sung so sweetly it fell silent immediately. Windows don't shut in songs. Once you ate, now you relinquish denim for dinner, just because a Siamese turnip sours us all on impulse. Cousins, keep on coming and brothers will not eat without asking. Cousins undermine me. Cousins, I'm calling you back.