Peta

Your star is coming home, besides a police cone, in shelters you lie prone, why whisper love, on throwaway 'phones, ravaged face like a moon, saints show their bones, a poem to massage your soul, it makes you drink alone, pearl doves arc above, a lifetime listening to moans, fly to those who give, fresh linen and eau de cologne, leaves you on the ropes, you wear a green raincoat, you are not alone, millions come and go, trying to find a home, luminous as a frozen stone, shining beneath the credit zones, search a road called hope, before you take a loan.