Jack Three

Each year makes me a liar, will anyone see, the gaps between my hair, sometimes just a little shove, makes a heaven’s dream, even if I die for love, terribly hard chairs, shake all beneath, who can accommodate me there, get dressed with a shrug, what about my teeth, grace comes with a rug, act like I’m at the fair, scrubbed sparkling clean, I sail through the air, Naeve’s my new Bud, she might rescue everything, rise each night in flood, I’ll only care, when evening turns green, her nostrils flare, it’s not like me to scream.