Rainy Road

Tongues roiling
Like an exorcism
Fit of veins
Clench of words
Frothed like spat-out skin
Like storm drain soup
Bleached into each
Pair
Of red mongrel eyes

How do they want
To be wanted?
How do they know
How to ask?

I'm riding through
On the 393
A shifting voyeur
Craned in these contexts
Spilled on these panto
Fetishes
Home on another rainy road