Xanthia

Men, the colour of lead, ask us can we cope, if we can be led, they will aid our search, throw away the rope, measure distance before we lurch, what messes with your head, they laugh, the dopes, sat in bars making bets, do they think of us as hurt, at the Metro in New York, look at us like dirt, my ticket to the Med, is purely based on hope, not how big my cred, do they wish that death, on trains in rooms as we know, comes only from the bed, look at me like gravestones. recognize what's above ? my wrist around her glides, her body limpid, to lay upon the tide, with the herring gulls alone, their faces to the wind of someone else's purlieu, learn to dance don't get blue, ignore those cool untruths, give me just one more time. each sea green evening, she dances on Hawaii, thats what she'd like to do How can we ever grow, /is this your last throw it reaches inside you again worms of the cemetery quarantine, resist just the same, they party every night, and you my lover throw, scenes down every lane, skim the lake with stones, swear what you'd never be, each Sunday again, when sunlight lifts the Poppies, hide her deceit/ a soul not hers to keep certainly not deep, a family she thinks cheap, who don't check their Escrow, than promissory notes, far more than any keep, birds thrum their tune, she pulls at my traces, the moon is her nosegay it haunts her face, other shipwreck signs,