Peter Case

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Sugar Sweet

so white & dry & innocent but evil—the sweetness that creates a sucking sound—a light in every dark heart—candy lives that go down easy  attention spans that spin at the sour—the dirty truth you have to get down on your hands & knees to ride—the faint trail in the dust that leads out through the lines—white footsteps in the green wet grass straight to—SUGAR ISLAND where the deal goes down—kill for a mouthful to bury this turpentine taste—the big size drinks at the asphalt corner stand—in a big plastic sweating cup—each sip leads unbearably to the next ’til yr teeth fall out, your waist is dragging like a swollen hula hoop—yr breath is shorter than a fullback’s book report. Sugar has its spot at the very top of the pyramid, like King Tut or the Sphinx—sugar the universal solvent—more potent than alcohol? A brighter name in the Poison Hall Of Fame—oh we all love to lick the pan—let our tongue lead the way through wisps & crisps of alleys & chiffon floating sweetness—her voice was thin & pinched everybody called HER sugar & she gave them something very sweet that soon rotted their resolve—it’s a ballast without it I fall sooner than later like learning to walk on Saturn or Jupiter where my weight is doubled but no float is for free—you pay more by the pound—it’s an aphrodisiac—or not? A replacement.

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