5199. FRIGHT WIG CADAVER

FRIGHT WIG CADAVER

This Andy Warhol jig is up : something silver

yet moves. Give me all your chances now.

(The song moves through air, resounding off

buildings, creeping about like a widow in the

dark). I have no understanding of surprise.

-

I see you are a proper lass. I see the gentleman

lurking  -  only those who demand for company.

Silver platters and silver foil, like silver hair, are

mostly unbecoming. I should move away.

-

Every so often a mystery  -  something
serene yet unknown  -  arises.
I heard some silly girl say : 'when my

bed caught fire, it smelled like a garden.'

I have no understanding of surprise.