A fat man in baby blue swoops past on an electric bicycle in Hello Kitty pink.
Air so thick with imminent rain you could cut it, like slicing those slabs of brown sugar steamed sponge cake, wrapped in wax paper, sold from small blue vans parked on the side of the road.
Just cycled past a man spray-painting fake white roses blue.
The cinematic canon is shaped like a dick.
The literary canon is shaped like a dick.
The art canon is shaped like a dick.
Love makes humble fools of us all.
Riddled with ego like a cancer.