Nameless, but fabulous.
Bugsie was febrile, on the needle, as if cashed in on a docile brain calculating odds,
As a bug, feverish in exoskeleton,
Nevada, or ordure, or issuance, hearing a twang, of a ghetto Soweto, lit up in the beauty of lights, Las Vegas, City of Lights, City of star-spangled platter night stick, big Ram truck, divin’ as bold,
Las Vegas an Oasis, or a Casbah, camels spittin’ solo, sweet twisted sisters, rearing a fresh leg, to register, or buy a ticket to, a cash in your chips, not buffalo chips, which are not sacred cow plops, which —
Amid whistle and whine, off the beaten track, the aboriginals, attracted, charred, a Las Vegas barbeque alarum,
Big Bugsy the Brightest, composing, lachyrmose reposing, twerking the cigar in his mouth, eyes seeing future, in Elvis music, ce ca, ce swah, little dancers at the bar, barr, candy candace barr,
Big jugs exposed to the world, Eve, since her departure from Eden, knowing herself naked, needing to use as function for feeding, Cain and Abel, the pump of the morning dew, the morning screw prompting the morning dew, Eve, angel of the morning, disoriented from Adam’s rib, the serpent insinuating,
Does not see Las Vegas as the new Eden!
Faceless!
Spam of Human Affection 
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