A balloon pumped by air,
colourful and bloated at a country fair
Balloon deflates its happy breath,
ugly and limp in its undesired death
Unbubbled whiskey and bitter beer,
tobascoed chips and coffee to plug a tear
A waving candle flame and menthol cigarette suck,
a scrappy paper by pen is struck
Words the mouth of thought
of emotions unwanted bought
by a lady of honesty and youth
like an unheld receiver in a public telephone booth
Why did trees and ambition not distract
before I became so abstract
Cast as an old man before the fall,
segmented like a child-filled car greeting a brick wall
And every song that buries from the speakers,
divides my heart, makes my spirit weaker
Hurts a little, hurts a lot
so that there’s no doubt that I’ve been shot
And when I’m gone to where daemons with angels dance,
will I be settled or bad feelings enhanced?
Will Jesus or the Devil pay my fare?
All I have to do is gamble my dare
Instead, I’ll accept sex and kisses
and hope that loving won’t always be misses
Thus I’ll end this silly rhyme
of the dream of a woman who wants to be mine.
What is that?