VEGETABLES AND DEATH
Everything you stole from me I'm bringing back again : your
motors and your ale, your motions and the rest. The new
dark mother has come down off the altar and her praises
she sings to me. Why are all religions so monstrous?
-
The little man is praying in his coffee, wishing his double shot
with foreign eyes both closed and open. I whisper him a
little prayer of my own back in return : 'may your hearty be
ever open, be like the river that took Huck away and then
brought him back, or Kerouac's father of the Alleghenies.
Take it all as one thing : vegetables and death.'
-
I'm sharper than the pencil in your eye, the round-robin
toenail in your face. We are not all together, and this
collective spirit stuff sucks. Cry me a river.
I cried a river over you.
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