Of all the imaginary conversations I’ve had I hoped I wouldn’t have one with you In fact, I was perpetually hoping But here I am talking from all the places I shouldn’t taking fun from the places I shouldn’t – I am not aligned. The war founded your faith in humanity I rejoice in your pussyfooting, if not share it I’ll fold up the towels, listening to you. They’re not dry yet, but they’ll do. My eyes are not yet accustomed to the new measurements of shampoo I have to use My eyes widen when I finger my short, soft growths of hair Wet in subconscious. Where does that tell you I am? You’ll ride, on an elephant’s back all the way here, tusking the way To see me, shushing and briding my self to an islanded sort of life Ghost of the past, you are and you know How I gag at everything, behind my woollen shroud. And my shroud is thicker now, due to some undue climatic alterations And I gag larger Simple the air and the oxygen that now must feed me -
