Tesla wouldn’t go anywhere without his electric balls
and I won’t go anywhere without you, Paris.
These lights on my hands, hands rising above the city.
They say you can’t throw a brick in this town without hitting a dirty cunt.
We are well lit.
I’m climbing the Eiffel tower like King Kong. Yes, the movie.
I can’t think of a better place than Paris to show you how
we’re all just electricity. Water and electricity.
Put down your Sidekick. I’m goddamn talking to you.
One foot in a puddle. One tab of acid on tongue.
One hand holding your wrist. One hand holding Hume.
One foot wrapped in this live wire. Paris, give us a kiss.
The electric snap of a camera hive makes me come.
I behave badly
like all six of my puppies, yipping
all over the city in pink satin. This lady
is a tramp living only on ice and lattes,
ice in lattes, ice crunching between my anemic
teeth. Your hands flash like cameras
and I come and I come and I grab a camera
to photograph your electric cock in my mouth.
Your cock, my lattes, a tiara crunched
by the side of the bed. Flash all over
my face, Frankenstein before the power goes out