When you dozed off in a public restroom stall
Some vainglorious archangel signed your t-shirt tag that
Stuck out on the neck and erased
All the traces of death from your body,
Then went back to perform the routine
Separation of snails from clouds.
Wake up, awkward doll; go look for
Your pungent shining hangover.
Soldiers prefer to lose the eyeglasses in the borderland grass.
Music never coincides with their heads, and whatever
Lives in the lakes and the rivers, it drowns
The noise of the stars. The water they drink
Spies on them on behalf of the rats and mice.
Euphoric jalopies disgrace the junkyards far away in the towns
Where loafers play ball on vacant lots with pink weeds
Or give out names to stray dogs
Or eat antique postcards. Life is good.