I could be your lover
Think how you would feel
The sun fires freely into the crowd of mourners
Your glistening lips grin, turning green
Oozing sugared rum, coating the paper I write on, read from, go to
Insomnia welcomes meringue on my head
Quick, take my photo
British boys await parcel
Looks as if I see trails

Velvet felt covering your entire driveway and my entire driveway
Which both meet in a horticultural handshake
Right in front of our own 2 room house
Funny enough, looks as if I smell your blue sauce
Almost ready, nearly complete, practically prepared