Amelia

Who do you want to suffer more, me or your wretched mother, outside her opera or foodstore, on a perfect sunny evening, the kids looked after by others, all your money goes on winning, you work out a knowing score, in life between the covers, who do you think you are, certainly wiser than me, in your sedan washed slumber, RayBans eye the front seats, sunlight glints on terrace floor, music you say brings lovers, everything about you knawed, I sip a long Campari, dusk is a sweet red colour, an Atlantic bay in Brittany, may you expire in water.