I want to fall into a little break in space
Like angels upon lazy-boys,
Smoking cigarettes with the nuns.
My open mind shifts constantly
Between a bad habit and good morning sun,
Where there’s no better maker,
No fuller shade of gray
To take care; once was into the future.
French rhymes upon my tongue,
Little tea cup stains around my working scribbler,
Two dollars for the road,
And my mind’s not made up yet.
