by LJ Frank

 

 

 

his libertine brain teases out his thoughts

a dead cat bounce is the Street’s strap-on metaphor

standing in a doorway selling homemade massage oil

a stranger kneads the lusty mind of the extraneous   

 

oligarchy is linguistic tyranny reflected in the mirror

a broker ingests medicine christened paranoia fix

the Cynic a sect member, the Street is not into Greek

yet, in the margins of the Scripture is the word gnostic

 

a tableau of spectators watching other Spectators 

seductive stylish grins emerge as stocks shape shift

discrete on the other side of the velvet rope flash skin

sports utility vehicle fashionistas mimic each other 

 

caffeine laced ice float on the surface of a latte fetish 

 and security is not socially entitled

rhetoric is but a noun in the dictionary of choice 

the pawn must self-care not to over-dose on reality

 

the Street Connoisseur knows that sipping is preferable

gulping is for Unicorns – insiders know private has value

off the grid is the discipline of competing exposure

while applying the sunscreen on a document titled Self.