folded fullmoon
just looking at the roof -
he will draw yet another telephone.
our tongues are maple syrup now
or unripe pineapple.
I think I should smoke,
domesticate
a brown pelican.
white paint is medicine
but locomotive wind

it changed our song.

she is cheap motel moments,
a makeshift engine
to drain your lover completely.
people studied your poster
by faint candlelight;
that was before I burned them;
news headlines peeling,
though black & white TV
or doctored film,
at a terminal
the colour of god's hair

you must be so hungry.