I am walking out in the rain
and I am listening
perpetrating counter-culture she is walking through the park
first light ugly
I'm imagining your frame
Every angle and every plane
And I'm imagining
I opened the fire door
to four lips
none of which were
i am letting the telephone ring
cause i don't want to
the butter melts out of habit
the toast isn't even warm
the
pale purple nipples
goose pimpled
she shivers shifts from a walk to
rush hour
and the day's dawning
the rain came
and pushed me under
he said ani, you've gotten tough
'cause my tone was curt
yeah,
the slant
a building settling around me
my figure female framed crookedly
in
lying on the floor
four stories high
in the corridor
between the asphalt
I opened a bank account when I was nine years
I would have returned your greeting
If it weren't for the
