XVII

that was black cypress bayou,

crouching probably 30 mph

and all that swamp yawns

all those blacks

some blues


them frozen blue vines,
poor guys, thems
thems pity freezy vines
jes in that bayooo


but might quiet,
might still
cept wings beating and buzzing
no listen tho
when a says,


"pity you black cypress bayou"
"give you a hug black cypress bayou"
"black cypress bayou, no more black lipstick"

No comments:

Post a Comment