i-40e/nm-41s

                                before the sleep comes in the place where the parrots crow and gangrene defaults for a beauty mark of the ones who cant afford the trip into the stars that shine on borrowed gleaming blinks and NASA goes on break the supper crowd waits til 6

             to catch the train by a frazzled skirt that has sat on its last desk at the home of doll house diplomats did you ever see the stippled sky after the new year came and we owe money that has not been invented yet the people have

                    spoken but our dictionaries have faded we want wine and glory the oyster bar awaits the hookers call the other girls and the priesthood has lost weight if i chew and spit

               out codes that only fleas can understand i might take the interstate and go to Las Cruces and bake out in the sun then back to Lady Angels arms but i wont know about the after

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