The very horses were nude and put my heart in a jar.

She wasn’t watching the sea because of her young girls screaming.

Don’t the rich dress him in hand-me downs? The air conditioner

Questions their days, the hours they squirrel away, and their morals.

When he threw in Dan’s lap his hot comb and make up kit

The world was in ribbons of metal and sea breeze.

I was hungry for old coffee, though I love the fury

Of choices where school marms battle the light.

She gave the mother of her country a lovely couch to lay on

And above the divan she put lemons at their ease.

The sun loved to lean softly on her like the sea,

Singing her a mountain top from out its valise.

Their eyes fix me like a tiger in a junk shop,

Smoke having blown dreamily as she sat down to draw the flowers.

Hot wax poured slick across her finger

Giving a soft charm to her changes.

Her bra and her jaw, her spoon and her lassoo,

Smooth secret agents hurry by with a swan.

Clairvoyants in police cars passing before my vision

And her wind and her sails like grapes on the vine.

She goes forward, more calmly than a bad painter

To trouble the garbagemen that my donkey has been misplaced,

That the exterminator’s handgun has traveled.

Able to deal with it all she sits on her ass and sucks licorice.

I went east to see her in a new dress,

The legs of the antelope broke through while we were drinking.

Her aunt’s long story made us resort to the basin

Where certainly the wild water was brown and quite stinging.

— And the lamp was resigned to mourn,

So the soul of the hallway illuminated the bedroom.

Each time she eats a flamboyant dinner

She fills this song with a little more amber!