Habit,
warm the milk, stir the honey and grab it,
one last couple of bookmarks to ebb it,
agua de Jamaica is deadbeat,
minutes left to five, but so far,
lea leas,
millions of slow leaning lilies,
tears on the phone-line woven linens,
in the dark, a dark-blue eye seeing,
earshot ajar.
Third bell, thunder broke amid,
you will tell the clouds' creep
all you learned about me,
all you can no longer keep.
From a box of cigarettes
and a wet glass finger sweep
I will send you best regrets,
young boy crying in your sleep.
Got to
make it all plain in your turn to court her;
I've been her fortieth circle of torture,
delicately poisoned desert water,
lying lodestar.
Armor,
not a way to heal it but make it number,
nothing more than put down the phone number,
call to hear the could-have-been-calmer,
maybe known voice from afar...
Au revoir.
Original: altwall.net/print.php?show=tequilajazzz&number=39934
Video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRHnQGJZLm4