See the poet, hard at work
grumbling and scribbling and drinking his tea
...
Raven in the parking lot
Saunters about as he looks for food
...
I walk through these desert hills
beside a highway
...
She laughs over the phone
I used to live to make her laugh
Maybe that was the only thing
I was ever good at
...
See the girl about to fall
Dancing on the wire of her desperation
...
She is the shadows
in a film noir
The mist across the street lamp
on a London night
...
I would make you my religion
and worship at the temple of your body
Taking communion from your lips, your breast, your thighs
I would die in you
...
I see her happy and I think
of all the chances I never had
...