You want to wear my raccoon coat, o singer of sea-shells!

The road divider of your beauty gives birth to your youth.

I want to pinch your bow-tie

Or send my lawn’s fence sailing towards the maternity ward.

When you go to ballyhoo the world with a large Burger King soda

You have the effect of a cow-shaped boat with a cargo of the biggest

Credit card bill and go rolling along

Suavely, singing a doo-wop tune under a parasol during Lent.

On the weight of your revolution and around the lawn on your shoulders,

Your hand rolls out an awning of strange grasses,

Ending an era of frozen lakes and three-legged elephants

You’d passed by in a sweater, with the telephone judge.

You want to wear my raccoon coat, o singer of sea-shells!

The road divider of your beauty gives birth to your youth.

I want to pinch your bow-tie

Or send my lawn’s fence sailing towards the maternity ward.

The cliff face is rushing towards us pushing an Irish woman’s chocolate pudding!

The cliff face of the three-legged elephants is a musical ballerina jewelry box

Never smashed cleanly with a hard loaf of bread

Like the buccaneers drunkenly ripping apart éclairs.

The buccaneer-agitators came armed with rose thorns!

Jewelry box of stories of the secret lives of ducks, full of ribbons and awards from bagel competitions,

Couches, departing giants & gentle sherries

Scurrying along to deliver silver trays to dogs!

When you go to ballyhoo the world with a large Burger King soda

You have the effect of a cow-shaped boat with the cargo of the biggest

Credit card bill, and go rolling along

Suavely, singing a doo-wop tune under a parasol during Lent.

The noblemen’s legs were crushed violently under the buses they were chasing.

The badminton tournament they would have attended blurred, as if looked at through blue water,

Like two sorcerers who struck oil

Making a blackbird turn and dance in a deep urn.

Your arms journeying across me like a precocious Hercules

Are the long flat boats laid out to carry late-model packaderms,

Made to cut in half the obstreperous catholic priests,

Bringing the new boot-print of the dancing dog, your new lover and accountant.

On the weight of your revolution and around the lawn on your shoulders,

Your hand rolls out an awning of strange grasses,

Ending an era of frozen lakes and three-legged elephants

You’d passed by in a sweater, with the telephone judge.