A slipper for champagne sipping,
not a scuff; a maribou-trimmed slingback for marimbas, or a mule; a tuxedo slipper

worn by a martinet pinching the cool stem of a gin martini between thumb and forefinger,
who dangles his cigarette from his lips,
ashing on the magic carpet like a yogi or djinn,

a chitty chitty bang bang, on bedknobs and broomsticks, and above everywhere, in a vehicle
for afar, in a dream car, progression

starts to talk, drops off
midphrase, carried along by passing archetypes, the finest neo-Egyptian style. Past Memphis

I try to yield to a better illusion,
the ground you prefer, actually your body, but this darned Packard won't pause when I pump
the brakes.