Legless, with the powerder puff
you've got light, still cannot read
and the mattress is two bored-out eyes

supposed to be a lightening bolt
but as I lie in bed
it's been middle class

middle thoughts, middle as C

tantric forms of intercourse

no divorce, drunk as a horse
and the waitress is the only one
who can speak and say what she means

as I lie awake
it's been Camelot
I can a lot, it's kennel and key


as she's waiting
stroking my hair

choking places
stroking my tie


princes with the dollar eyes
morning fries and light-up TV
and advances in the sweater vest

picking homes, picking out cheese
as i lie to them
second wallabee

second son
what happened to me