That deep
begging bed of grass
rather soft
rather irritating
it's where I lie
most of the time, these days
the snake got me early
so I ate from the picnic basket
it's no wonder I had to
share it with you
with a severed lip
I made love to you
on solid ground
and now
we torturously cling
to the edge
of the cliff
and I want to mean well
but the skin of my fingers
is coming off
how can I smile
when I'm trying to hang on?
you don't understand
why I bite
because I hate the infant
but I love the child
so roll over
I need some room on
this flat earth
we'll find the missing sock
tomorrow
we'll toss the grease out
another day
don't you worry
just keep looking the other way
and you're bound
to miss it, again
- Jan. 4, 1986, A.D.
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