STREETCAR ISLANDS [the street's...]

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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

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