Max was in his ill-lit room making fetishes
for his friends: little things with strange
hieroglyphs, given for money or as treasured gifts.
his poetic air was patiently dark, with drugs and rough house sex
enjoyed at a Monday evening get-together
held inside regardless of the moody weather.
lurking in corners smoking away, his menacing friends
wore white gloves while watching amateur guests from afar
in an atmosphere most totally bizarre:
they would laugh at all their excesses, and their lack of scientific
thought.
encouraged to be inappropriate and morbid,
they fingered whatever they brought.
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