Thursday, December 15, 2011


That white top hat
That burning alert orange
That dust of grey
A tiny volcano
In the tips of my fingers
But never exploding
Just a menacing uprising
Of smoke
That song I've heard a thousand times
And still the wind
Cuts through my pleather
And still
My fingers don't fing

"A wind and a car and a window and a cigarette"

No comments:

Post a Comment