It's six years gone and I find
myself dead or alive ( catch me
on the first bounce) and I want
squares, common!
a mis-print dollar (what dyu got?)
I can't be like - something's got to
be traded - now the intervening time
denudes passing sentiment until
eleventh hour miseries (michael
jackson, soda) mean you're not doing
anything over again
throw it over here! and you'll
get their money (older men, the
subway) and if you keep them
out later, the ones who cheer you
up it's the first nerf fight ever made
(in that it's sub-mechanical) touch-down!
don't do it.
.
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