Persnickety

 
As she insisted I handle her Louis Vuitton purse
I insisted it upon a Parisian model so cursed
They said it was too poetically warm to stay outside
I reversed polarity on their window unit of mind,

My keys kept slipping between all future realities
So I made another set of the past gone realities
While smoking a left-hand cigarette, puff, puff, pass
This right brain flamed that unconscious grass,

A hybrid truck had a cultural blind spot to rule
It was traded for the nearsighted societal mule
Such mental soup made from brackish water of the sea
That salty joke flavored these tepid satirical teas.