Into the moon
a bummer
east of the Saab
a humongous stork
wept in a mood
the moon
east of me
they hurt me
in the summer
I really could care
I hurt somebody, mister
please adore me
when I looked
the mood had turned
you moan
and linger like a hawk
and the vines
like a mother’s
glass observatory
I fondle their emotions
like a peacock
the pill of the flock
pass despair over me
you’re cold to my hand
with a smile
the tops of hating
and I’m saying
this compromise has no goats
you’re cold to my hand
