so I can see the last straw.
All the time I am afraid
the children from my childhood
will get me, my whistling
hot fantasy: those were great moments
in somebody's life.
I look at the ceiling,
then turn and avert my eyes,
and say exactly what is expected of me:
the days just come to me.
Why aren't you in my way?
Where do the words go
when I have done with them?
My mouth should chase them.
The moon in her white nightgown,
the moon in her nightgown of nonchalance,
the warm drawers of the moon:
I don't know what I'm going to do
but
it
will include the terror
of earrings, earrings in the backseat,
nylons on the tub.
Thus the galaxy
is
inhabited
shouting
&
dancing around
with my ex-girlfriend, the spy.
We had a big fight one night
because she wouldn't wash her hands
of the blood from a coitus
interruptus midnight phoneca11.
There never vos sich times.
Then I swiftly pierced my Bible
with an icepick
&
slept in a field of general blur.
