COMING ACROSS
LIKE STEALTH
Run across the heath, Heath, let me know what's
there. I remember only the dark and cloudy days with
some Pink Floyd sadness running around my neck.
I just never really knew - all those names and places
people spoke of - what was me? And who was he?
-
Jesus K. Rist, how old were we then? Nothing new
like a transistor radio in your tooth, or some Challenger
spacecraft picking apart to pieces in the hallowed sky.
Everything was so fucking boring, and then the bombers,
they were still in the air - old time waltzing to WWII.
All those crazy veterans, they're now all dead and I'm
hanging around - a child of the filthy streets - just
trying to remember things anyone had said.
-
They ate jelly candy right from the jars?
They put cinnamon on all their toasts?
Their mothers and fathers all went
nuts? If that is so, then what's left,
what's been left for any of us?
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