Again, for ye newcomers, here's one for the day while I'm working, working, working away. Send wine and goodies.

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