Was it yesterday when you gave me the book to read?
Up through the vintage dawn and sleepy weed
Treading my way with the book by Thomas Kyd
I don’t remember its name though
In the summer only the sound of the wintry breeze’s blow.
Suzy gave me a lantern to hold
And down my balcony
Frozen umbrellas rained from the green sky.
Suzy was a strange girl I could see
Always soaking her hands in the water dry
Snaking her way through the tunnels with soap and lye
She discharged her job pretty well with her hoe
Not a tinge of sweat glistened from her brow
Griffins sang from the golden porticos of the pink lemon tree
Maybe I should have read Shakespeare or Marlowe
But I could think of nothing spare that book by the Crow.
Am I growing bald?
I am fast losing my hair
Under the sea damsels steal tears from a dead mare
Am I turning into a huge vermin?
But still the Jester croons hoarse in the radio.
I lived in a place where shadows never fell
“Flee flee, the Universe is nothing”, shouts he under spell
“Nothings to be done”, replies back the bell.
I am sitting on the porch of an iceberg
Perhaps, watching a movie by Cronenberg.
Smoked salami stuffed with a large chunk of Italian cheese
Standing on the driveway in the black rain searching for my lost keys.
Did I keep them somewhere?
Or has the rain eaten it?
Her sweaty face glistening in the tube light’s heat
Out in the summer sun only the doomed lambs bleat.
Something about that book that you gave me
I spoke to that old patriarch fastened to a chest-nut tree
He would not answer me no matter how hard I try
Only moaning that Time has stood by.
I guess I forgot to change the date, its Monday still
The evening smells of fresh salmon under the rusty grill
Outside black roses are pinned to some window sill
But darn why is it Monday still?
