Peter Parapathaphollogia and Angela Autonogynephile
Walk into a Bar

first they strip their lacquered skin off in lines,
laying each portion out on the countertop before them,
the bouncer’s arms crossed on his chest.

made bare,

emptied,

they open their arms out

wide,

peeled free from their flesh.

each takes one long, stretched step.

each pries open, neither entry nor exit,
all bent back, eyes a flutter, hips swung side to side

dazzling wake of wings sweeping against the woodgrain
talons sparkling across, clicking

heel

to toe

to heel

to toe.