The Book of Fake Lies
As I stand around corrupting youth
I’m reminded of how I can’t remember
a thing. A huge piece of blue furniture
once took up this corner of the room,
you say? Something almost seemed
missing. But sometimes architecture
expands (like bridges in summer).
I’d like to talk to you about pajamas.
Do you still have that rash? I’m
looking for the right balance and
believe I may be able to help you out.
And I couldn’t agree more about the
calluses. But as I dance ever nearer
I wonder if he’s in prostitution.
