in the epsilon quindrant
my lip, my lace, my meals with Magoo
a maggot in the machine
a swim in the magma with a major muggle
my shape, the shape of a magic demagogue
my mugs, my chin’s shaving cuts
my given gifts, my cow, and my government mocked
my maker, my cane, my call to the world
my cave, my cup of Coca-Cola in my cage
Muffy the Muffled Muffin-Mover is moved by our kiss
he pours ample amounts of maple syrup on the amber bums of Asians
no one has ever mapped your moves
my bare back is yours
take me while I’m dizzy in the darkest mist
missiles and messages pass us by, in the background masked by love
Mother Methane rants, her moods and methods never change
a rider who always takes the same redeeming roads
rename the runner across her Range Ranch
across the Armenian ramp
across the open distances between landmarks and points
reroute power from the deflector shield
in the epsilon quindrant
