The Chrome
She drinks a gallon of money
for another coating of chrome
topping her aging days
ramshackled under sky fire
and upheaval of the clay
A vexing of my nerve
to chrome she surrenders;
she takes me to ditches
filled with cobbles of hail
and the rest of the metal
I'll lead her to balloon,
blow-out, bail on
connecting yellow;
I'll make her human
three seconds upside down
through the smog of air
No comments:
Post a Comment