There's no comparison, I know, but sometimes

it's not enough, I lick the underside

to get a taste of how the other half lives;

the salt rising to the surface.
It's not enough, I lick the underside

to pirate, treasure, flag and farm

the salt rising to the surface,

heart voided, albeit briefly,
to pirate, treasure, flag and farm,

words stooked, hand-tied, and lined in rows,

heart voided, albeit briefly,

a silent song, approaching the throb within,
(words stooked, hand-tied and lined in rows)

hums its music, just as slowly:

a silent song, approaching the throb within.

A hungry stethoscope, tucked here and there,
hums its music, just as slowly,

to get a taste of how the other half lives.

A hungry, stethoscope, tucked here and there –

there's no comparison, I know, but sometimes-