the float

he was an immoderate man, choking d-flats into
his steel horn, riffing down intemperate a-sharp
sugary crusty donut shaped violations

he throned those iron steps scratched out
from his bedroom window, splayed his toes
shook his arms to free the juice

listening down, waiting out the breathing that
stole a few half-chordal splutters, squint-eyed
o-ing his lips to mimic back a few

gray crossbay air nibbled at his chest hairs, maybe
eating them down to their stump, maybe
acidizing through his pores, making a caustic trail

maybe he'd coda out some butchy-boy noise
blonde hair glisses, frat-bunny do-wah do-wahs
runnin-the-bridge makin-time atonals

his leg found some dancing, shaking a wrong
old beat stutter stutter what'd-i-ever-do-to-you
and everybody knows boys don't cry

boys don't get sweet inspiration, make sweet
choices, make supper with sushi make-believe
and he splayed his toes cross the edge iron

steps, swimming in the moonlight, surfing
slip-sliding, chasing dizzies, gutting out
and making kisses on his horn, steel smooches

making him a good boy, an honorable boy
a make-me-proud boy, and he gripped the
iron one last time, then did the float