After midnight on the narrow street
high on a memory magnolia sweet
like a magnet where you don't belong
smiling lady sings a lonesome song
Across the plaza, under the bridge
where the cognoscenti live
down where a butterfly becomes a dove
what in the devil are you thinking of?
No mashed potato, no lime and gin
where the crows get black
sleep on the foxglove, dream of a peach
on a honey stack.
Hands like a swan's wing, feet like a hoof
slip the landlord, sleep on the roof
and in the morning, fleece the mark
mix with the rando's who live in the park
No chocolate candies, no baseball game
where the crows count six
collect the cats eyes, call off the dogs
keep the licorice sticks.
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