He is in the corner wearing a ridiculous hat
We all rushed out to buy painted shirts, galoshes, skirts embellished with tropical fish.
The telephone wires in Haiti still swing though it must be windless now. My face warms the earth like Montana. May it be cooled in the pond outside? Kissing fishes cooly. Fringes part like seas after a few dry martinis and then the lady of the house starts singing. The everlasting scream left hanging, a lunch date? What does it mean when a single tear is shed on the thread bare stairs? Intentions of sanding and staining sweet threats on her breath.
The moon is rolling over like a perfect white cat
The ghosts of the fish rise, sparkling souls or winter mist making the pond shine like rhinestone in the teal air. Inside the purple knife has surfaced. The tiger lost a tail and your face fell down under the table, licking the floor like a snail.
The good life is not here.
The grass is blue like a desert, a trumpet, a violin, a shoe, a shelf, a birthday cake, a candle, a flower in the snow.
