empty waters play in 4/4 time
skipping across barren planes
to take apart the fishing towns
i sit and observe this troubled state
with jabbing of the eyes and crossed legs
with crooked fingers and a handsome brow
trees fall one by one (not that I would warrent such a thing, I am merely a minute observer)
Women and children dancing a jig
while their husbands talk through the masks of their skins
still I watch, and still I am unmoved and unaffected by such a spectacle (Am I missing something?)
I write this off and take at once with a speed
I walk past the women curling their hair around telephone poles
and I walk past the children talking to each to each other, stuck tight to dandelions of the same hight
and who am I? this rambling rock and roll man
this walker whose slipknot grows tighter around his neck with each step
I hang at sunset.
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