This one ghost undercoverhaving nothing for all your little toilings

Asking the men in the wet cavecamped out in front of all your little cries

The Queen’s and the Pope’s Geri curlssmells the carnival

No aprons, no running waterhe shuffles up the horses

A ghost writes like himthe rose falls, crushing the city.

Who washed himself out in the streets with nasturtiumslike the leper’s watch falling off with her wrist

While traffic cops made roomthey stand toe to toe at the fountain

And fooled the infinitedangerous shoe.

The cavalier paradedunsavory cherries flambé

On the fool’s. Son of athat her watch is laced into her brow

Eating in the parking lot, in walksa prince discovers his house

Lease me a chair in my sinusesand cold, sand on the horizon

Where gazelles sneeze on on-lookersthe white sun was finished, and turned away

A dull history for the lay-personand siennas and the kids are alright making money.