your tongue is a forked road which i spy from afar

i stumble but keep walking, wipe my hair from my eyes

an alligator leads the way, snapping, snapping at my toes

(is he leading, walking backwards like that?)

forked tongue, forked road; which should i choose?

i bought a ship today.

i carry it where i go so the wood will not rot

in those putrid waters where my harbour meets your dirty mind

tongue lapping, tongue lapping

forever lolling

you do not have to like my cooking

or my poetry,

but you have to get your own ship