Low altitude rum puts still living escargot in br My ears, br Twirling, twirling, the beautiful little things br With a few cells on the brink, br The new eternity of little girls skipping chalk; br And I can’t believe I am doing it again, br Usually with the same old conjunctions and semicolons br In my swarthy hand, br Tossing the grapes- When I want to be a better man br With a fine young mustache, br Want to spread her legs and plant her there br Atop the faithful alligator, and gross the man-dug br Rivers across the zoo to see the cages where they br Keep the age-old vampire, my alcoholic uncle, br And feed him peanuts, and show him slides of the elephant, br His girlfriend, br To live again in the 80s from a time warp discovered under br The ice of New Swabia, ands the skating rink, br And to make friends again with short haired and well-trimmed br Blondes, to ask them unabashed how is their sex-life, br To read fairy-tales to her four children, to get an erection br Doing it- To feel good in the surf of her loins, all wet and br Hungry, like being in fifth grade again, a patrol on his br Way to Washington DC, believing in the altruisms of professional br Wrestling, and that tomorrow I will be a sommelier and have br Written something passionate in the ancient grottos of br Colorado, while doing this, holding you in bed, br Having faith in the resurrections and apocryphal worm holes, br And going down smiling even as the sunsets on the last day br Of high school knowing that I should never have a chance br To believe in again the fiery angels of your best friend’s br Older sister laid out and barely altruistic beside the upper- br Middle class pools.