Hank

    That slick way in which
torpedoes traverse prairies all towards the gilded
    buckle of his bucktooth grin and slackjaw swagger.
He's blowing through them one row at a time from six to six. 
         E I
         E I
       Those boisterous shoulders accentuating only the smallest facets.
His contorted smacking expression, those eyebrows, he is becoming more animal-like. 
As his primal urges satisfy themselves one row at a time from six to six the strain rips from ear to ear. 
       I am overjoyed. 
      I marvel wondering how his body withstands such thunderous exertions of metal.
Mommy said not to feed them.