day glow, chrome windows
shapes in the clouds
hungry fish for miles around
upstream jumping out of the water
gills in the air
I've got many people to thank
but I can't write letters
I can't write letters
my friends on the edge of the old grave yard
they sit on the old grey porch
and watch foxes play
a jug of wine
the kind of wine that you don't mind spilling
that you don't mind spilling
well, I fill out the forms and I make my death come slowly
one at a time, some kind of record unrolling
best begin sometime, she said
but can't start until you're ready
yet
I seem to be controlled,
somehow pulled
by fingernails and eyelashes
and other insentient parts
we talk about dreams a lot
she reads her fortunes out loud
I think it's funny and I go stay with her
I go stay with her
and I don't mind dying
when I make love to her
under a wall of sound
a riverbed of clay
the distance between us stays
close but not close
far but not too far away
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