SAT

Come tomorrow
today I'm not the one I used to
I'm made of foam.
Sipping paper from the space
Lemon draws
a circle lurch
Lovely I crumble
into sand
The smoke between the spots
is fever parfum
Strange language I speak
and now I understand
High
is where I let it happen
Twice
I had to say goodbay
I
I see it in my eyes
Hide
the loot in your mind
Gnash your teeth
with alien leaves
The freezing goad
is trying to make you feel
SAT

I see the waterfall,
is like a rope tied to the lake


04/14/1997