the moon is like the whore
i see after midnight

business is slow
by the time that i meet her
so she doesn't ask for any money

anyway,
she'll be heading home
pretty soon

we just sit together on a
park bench and talk about
different kinds of birds
imagining the vivid colours
of their feathers
imagining what it would
be like to fly
to soar through roaring wind
up above the power lines
to escape this filthy world