((Lauren and Carrie speak philosophically while eating slimy fruit at a yellowed diner booth))
between my toes
it squealed and then it
gurgled... then it froze
and from its gorgeous gore arose
the pungent odor of
pantyhose
I squashed it flat and
flat it stay
Bitter and torpid, in squalor it lay
Betraying the ambience of
aging hay
I gazed at it and coughed
then wasted away
pus filled pearls
She chomps her bleached sandwich
and thinks of young girls
Her mud hair clinging wistfully
to her creamy face
Her sensuous eminence like
fireflies, caught in child's paste.
Jittering soup bubble hot hot hot
it is all before my tingling fings
I can't wait can't absorb
World swooping by
_____________accelerated!
hey!
Does'nt anyone grip....
the greatness of these pages
While you sup your wages
I am released in curtain of
heavy
sumptuous
phrases.
You wish you were me. I ache with disguised fulfillment.
Unprotected. Waiting.
My fingers brain the words oh
Please be kind. Do not rip the flesh.
You are all.
Scream.
Eighty seven.
Thank.
Out.
I can't write unless I read
him? first?
He is pure god.
I could elaborate.
Unable.
I do not have the propensity for words of gods.
This napkin shuns me.
The bold styrofoam light towers curse me.
The pavement laughs
(it laughs)
the concrete CHORTLES
fuck you! I am mortal!
So resigned
to not be like Sir Corso.
(it laughs)
Lyrics 4 & 5 composed on the napkins of Borders Cafe, Manchester, CT