Dial seven digits from a highway sign for dinner party of two, a different seven
for maize chrysanthemums, stuffed cupid toy, chocolate grapes in the shape of
brunette boy eyes, seven for discounted lodging in Cozumel, for new condos $0
down, for Noah’s tools when the roof sags towards the living room, seven for
Questions? Call the Durex Quality Division, for “why does my womb keep
misplacing its seeds?”, seven for a 168-pound blue-eyed doppelgänger of your
mother begging, “Have you seen me?”, for a hotline voice that will talk your sad
off a balcony, trigger, plead the Jäger™ release your throat, for company (Free
Chat Girls, Live Chat, Vibeline), seven for Ticket Master Janet Jackson Live!,
for EAT MOR CHIKIN, Inserection Adult Toy Store *next right*, seven for
shelter refuge to flee hot grits at home, to hire the law to help you dodge a
backhand, seven for Falcons vs Saints at the Dome, to rent Vera Wang (15% off)
for renewing your vows, to seek cerebral advice when condolence moves into
the guestroom, seven to be checked out in the head, to be checked out in the
cervix, to check out of religion, to check out the Fernbank Planetarium—theories
on reincarnation (you hope your ashes build a sparrow, a squid’s third heart, a
rapist’s apathy, baby’s venom).