I came upon a child of God, he was walking along the road
The cop slumps alertly on his motorbike
I spit out stale gum
Wanda, when are you going to wear your hair down?
The dark circles of sleepless nights
Like the wind outside, roaring, pausing
Gentleman, which of these three vegetables most represents your sad wife?
After all day scrambling below the peaks
A plane turns on its elegant silver heel, dives
She stares at the number over the door
You do not do, you do not do
We lie on my mother's bed, smoking
I woke early, staring at a tree
Nothing would rest there, nothing would sleep
The sawmill foreman blows a whistle, saws stop
To dream of baboons, periwinkles, sky
Turning and turning
Monday, 14 May 2007
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