glittering sausages are gloating through my dreams
my nightmare cites are built of glittering sausages
and sausage people: sausage men and sausage women
catch sausage taxis on the crowded sausage streets
they shout sausage words and betray their sausage meanings.
all the sausage phrases seem scripted by committees
of scratching sausage writers: pale with sausage fluorescence
as they strive for dramatic or comedic sausage.
sausage stage directions dribble off the page and sausage
thespians recite their sausage lines and drum the
sausage boards with huge bulbous sausage feet
while hunched sausage techies scurry
and cinema projectors are throwing huge sausage
images into stark relief onto pale silver sausage screens:
hushed sausage audiences inhale large pails of
sausage popcorn and red strands of sausage licorice.
I have no idea why sausages would be gloating, but I’m kind of glad they are. I’m a vegetarian now, so maybe I was just working through some stuff. I’ve noticed that I was playing around a lot with what happens to words when you repeat them a lot. I’m glad I worked through that particular phase. Still, I think a city of sausage-y things is pretty funny.