While I wonder about this wall's appearance, then maybe.
It wonders right back about mine.
Against the sky, we stand, you and I.
With hammer and tongs – we can't go wrong.
Full of pepper.
And with a fuse at one end.
And looks like a potato masher.
Then runs over your doorknob.
Give us four stars.
Then turn the key and see what happens.
Walks through my dreams.
As is it all.
Whenever it moves, it creaks and then croaks.
Which is what saltwater does for you.
Breaks the sky into bits.
It's got me by the bulb.
And I'm too young to hang here.
Takes it easy.
Paddling the ceiling of Sharkland.
I'm on one side.
But I can't remember which one.
About us? About you?
During a gap.
While winter looked the other way.
Just before I hit the wall.
Came to my attention.
As I walked by.
Bumps on the ground.
Grabbed me by the eyes.
Uvthee ah-sing. Etc.
For failure to pay solar tax.
Have two locks on one side.
But what's on the other side then?
Deflated, out of doors.
Drained of all their summer lies.
Following your moves.
Actually somewhat bent and not so square after all. But insistent.
On the one hand there's this thing.
But on the other – what?
Waiting on a wall.
Bright, light, and independent.
Death marches on crystalline feet.
Follow the dictates of nature.
Hang one to port and head toward winter.
Are steeling themselves against what is to come.
Which is something or other – no one ever knows, least of all mindless trees.
Sometimes it's a blessing from heaven.
Sometimes it's a random, sagging stain.
Is something you do while lying on your stem.
Much like me, some days.
Not today though – today It's the other way round.
Barring a frame, I'll choose to frame a bar.
Given that option on a Sunday. Or any day.
Right there, by the berm.
Glowing with hidden messages.
Didn't I tell you?
With only a minor footnote, sir.
(Hint: Check your shoe soles for more info.)
We'll throw in the other for free.
He's a little blue today.
But he's got his slither on.
Time for one mousnap.
Then decay for a while.
But remain connected to your air supply.
And mind the screws.
Which then climb down the tower and have breakfast.
Following that, they go for a swim.
And put a squirrel on your head.
On you it looks good.
I'm poking my own feathers.
Even while wet.
I don't know. It's just a sound I make.
Whenever I see this.
If you're keeping score.
Give us encouragement.
We can sell it for meat.