i wish i liked whisky because this would be a night for whisky in a crystal tumbler and i'd sit in a big armchair and tell my wife that this situation is "just impossible"
i am only in 10% of the bed and it feels like a desert, i want it to be full of people, breaking with people all saying things like "shhhhh sh-sh-sh" like mothers do
i feel like a needle in a haystack
who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should
get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited,where
always
it's
Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves
