STREETCAR ISLANDS [the street's...]

    the street's dust settled on my teeth

    the street name's escaping my lips   fate

    I don't complain   just take

    a knife and stick it deep between my ribs



    the engine boats of memory to my nostrils...

    the purple fires under my eyelids

    get lost my fate   I turned off

    the radio with your station

    push your knife straight under my fifth rib



    you only make a mess   if I only knew   well

    I'll get into the memory engine boat

    the nostrils thru fog

    will lead me to the corner where

    there is the street name and the dust under my shoe



 





wlodzimierz holsztynski ©

       1997-01-29