Premium salad doesn't really taste that great--
I drape your body with the sprigs.
You disappear into the forest.
Live bait, salad leaves laid on a plate.
Traveling to the jungle, we film parrots.
we sense movement--what the fuck is that?
A shred of leaf falls on your hat.
They find our bodies all ripped up with carrots.
They think the government is trying to scare us.
salad sandwich in the dreams
and thoughts and screams
don't bring any vinegrettes or creams
Panic in the cities, lettuce in the seams.
Good sense lost to a great mass of leaves.
It's not fair to fear such pretty sprigs,
but death is a pretty strong impetus.
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