finally i climbed up the front stairs into a crawlspace of lasting ideas and toys to be thrown around, as your ticklish body fumbled with mine all over yellow canvases. where do red apples grow, i gave you as many as i could pick, knowledge being such a fear that it stapled itself into the corners of your pages. my fingernails chip and corrupt what's with the early morning haikus across this belly of incompetence, why did all the birds fly away for the winter in v-shaped flocks, i'm driving and
there's a thousand birds moving in piano notes when the weather is half earl gray tea, i've lost my keys lend me your hands to dig my way back into you
it's all so complex when saturday is across the street waving and forcing a smile, yeah i understand where do we go from here what's after this 2am stanza with lights abroad, i've got nothing but rocks all jagged to offer unless you come to the garage sale then i gots lotsa puzzles, the telephone tone in your breathing makes
it hard to deal the cards what did you say, the bandages are losing their adhesive in the rain, what's it going to be like when there are no empty sweaters on the hallway floor and i am at a foreign place called home with fingers removed --
i can't go into this sailing routine if i can't overcome the lines on these pages, when you're reading in quiet rooms it makes me need your catchy tunes and reliable body what's the weather going to be like the day it's over the day it's over
the day it's over
what's with this rush of colours i don't want a life of 2001 a space odyssey.i want your arms length measured around me so i can feel more than these aching wrists from writing about it.