A Good Year Down

    Mothers of the disappeared don‘t come ’round

    Here anymore. I said you‘re housekeeping aren’t you

    With Lipton tea stains & the Establishment

    Seriously attracted. He said： No

    I‘m turning down the beds. Now it’s my turn

    In bed with a beautiful American rage

    Like brunettes with night sweats. My love

    Semiprecious & stoned

    In the shoulder season we hold on

    Though I am dismal & have no dope

    Siphoned off behind pink Easter

    I fake an optimism

    Just to breathe—Just thinking of him for once &

    The Wandering Jew that ate my sunshine

    But I know flowers like Zorro was my dad

    Those garlands of thin hissing lasers

    So with the “sexy isotherms

    Of semiotics“ we meet again at the Kiev

    To check chemistry. They bring the lights

    Down on those cherry pies & like cryogenics

    It sorta works. This time my love

    The salt doll of night egging us on

    Straight to the zeppelin mooring

    With she-has-a-bit-of-the-neardamned-in-her-

    Like-when-a-cloud-dies construed as

    Well， all right， I‘ve seen worse.