Laying
your sonorous mouth on the bad font
The
crushed velvet and very reeds of Pan
Ah!
Will we run hand in hand all the way?
Will
we make it to the ocean’s lip before we
Leave
in idleness and lust the polished horns
And
forehead of this spring tantrum this hurt
And
this pleasure? What captures us kills us
A
piano or a violin maybe even your uncle’s
Ukulele
seduces us into this final abstraction
And
O we smile in our solitude we prance
These
peaceful nights alone we dance
Who
in this god-forsaken world has a right
To
see our glances? The world seems closer
And
too loud it rushes on us like Niagara Falls!
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