alive and dead and gumbo

Cold teeth in crooked climates. Wearing new shoes on old feet. And times passes like brooms and blueprints of rooms. Old feet on concrete. New feet on sheets. Two toes touching. Four toes touching, a first kiss. A last breath; looking for wormwood and shingles. Church bulletins and banned books coexisting. Together, with new feet and old feet. Cold teeth and innocent lips. Time is days, time is nights. Time is you and chicken gumbo, and there isn't much left.