Transition Stanza

If I were on you, I'd be coming to
in a dank back alley
fully drenched in trench coated men
sacred fires sprout green and tall
burning foresters' backs

[transition stanza]

malcontent, engorged thoughts
as fat as fat laughs--fat as fat brats
in the 3rd world, fat with fat cats
reign this
chubby, clubbing sick seals with fat bats
knuckle's flab fatter than fat fats' fats

fear frames photos you've left
your words stuck on the back
back in "dec em ber"
I wait
in waiting rooms with strangers
they say, strained
Uh, hey
your pants're... stained

my watery sunken eyes stare back
habitually, I repeat what I see
my back bends with pointy potato sack ends
my throat's clogged, I'm choking a dog
but still I'm waterlogged

who are you

i sat down one night
to ponder your identity
under the shirts the skin
and your demonous legacy

you're a stalwart night owl
awake during the day
you're a sentence
far too delicate to say

outside on some damn country road--
i wouldn't find you there
and i wouldn't go there to find you
but i may take you out
to that damn country road
to leave you and bind you

for your movement stings
and your expression brings
my mind to the wastelands,
to the ropes in the rings.

when we met i didn't care
but now that my blood is in yours
i have problems, oh,
letting us grow
into what we should become

but baby, don't despair
for I declare
that I do care and
we'll be in the clear

yes of course
my sweet and gentle dear,
clearly our journey
won't end here