Never shall I lend my hands
To couriers teeming with tattoos and contempt,
Too many times I had to haggle
So to hold half the sky and count my stars --
The truth about grace, my friend?
An extravaganza of loose skirts and swirling hems,
Why do women ride so rash, it gets my goat --
Yes, the truth about grace, every gale
A blow to the sky, to my lips,
Guilty of ranting too dirty, too much --
Gibbets and slights, why are you getting so close?
Who cares, let scarves and shadows fly in the blue,
Welcome to the looming gods:
Look, I certainly won't complain
If dear loves never send me letters --
My friend, here comes the old tattler's tale
You were longing for, the end of all that jazz,
Cicadas in full swing, green glass shards,
Dazed dossers, rusty iron bars,
Words like Cerberus: closed all summer --
So stop asking whether September for no reason upset:
Maybe a promise or the breaking rain
Will give us back a lady all smiles and mane,
The goddess incognito among snaps and gilded frames --
You miss the knobby roots of baobabs
That kept nosing around?
Nope we snapped --
(Course we do, but pride first) --
You got spears or blades they inquired,
Yep we shouted --
(Course we fibbed, but pride first)
My friend, my soul, my demise,
Our eyes will strike a slash
While glassy-eyed dossers stare at those shards,
While razed mansions and dirty dealings
Breeze in just to ply us with pints and pies.
Friendship but a faraway field, see?
Not falling stars but demise I caught
On the night comets were trampling my soul
And racing cars slick motorways.